


Sink or Swim

by eyesofwax



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Denial, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Mystery, Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slash, The Great Lake | The Black Lake (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27336910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofwax/pseuds/eyesofwax
Summary: Harry returns to Hogwarts to finish studying his NEWT’s, but without his best friend he feels more alone than ever. The Malfoy’s are being investigated, but Draco Malfoy has been allowed to return to finish his education, pending his own trial. Harry struggles to understand this new, quiet Malfoy and a Mystery in the lake only pushes Harry’s suspicions that Malfoy’s persona is covering up secrets even more sinister than anyone could’ve imagined. Hogwarts 8th year."Malfoy rolled his eyes.“You’re ability to squeeze yourself into everyone’s affairs is utterly unbearable Potter, it is none of your business what may or may not be going on.” Malfoy spat.“It is if people's lives are in danger.”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111
Collections: Drarry, Drarry 8th Year





	1. Chapter 1

The Giant Squid knew he was going to die. He could sense it, a large, dark pulsating energy was hiding deep in the Lake that wished very much to break out and consume everything in its path. The Squid had been keeping it at bay for a while, pushing back against it, but he knew that soon it would grow too powerful. He had been the guardian of the Black Lake for centuries; he had seen thousands of witches and wizards come and go from Hogwarts, had witnessed wars and battles time after time, both wizarding and muggle. But now, something has changed. The vibrations in the lake was the first sign. His intuition felt a shift in the nature of the water. From the moment The Battle of Hogwarts had ended, the Lake was still, and the Squid knew something was wrong. He spent his final weeks holding back this darkness from the rest of the Lake, trying to protect its inhabitants from the inevitable, until one day, on a moonlit night in August, the darkness engulfed the Squid. He always knew he would die protecting his home, but to be defeated so soon was his only regret. With his last breath, the Giant Squid pushed it back as hard as he could. He knew it wasn't enough. He closed his eyes, and slowly but surely, he let go, and it swallowed him. He felt himself rise, and just before the Squid gave himself over, he breached the surface of the Lake, and looked up at the moon one last time. The Giant Squid floated quietly on the black mirror, and Death took him, finally.

***

Harry Potter was sat at the Weasley’s enormous, old dining table, with the Daily Prophet laid flat on its surface in front of him. He read silently, as if in a trance, eyes skimming across the words and pictures like pebbles on water, trying to find the article that Hermione had mentioned in the letter he had received from her earlier that morning. Harry turned the page, and saw in its centre what he’d been looking for.

“MALFOY’S MISFORTUNES; TRIAL AND ERROR”

Under the headline, a sullen, broken looking Mr Malfoy stands next to his wife and son, even paler than usual under the bright flashes of cameras. He doesn't move. If it weren't for all the flash bulbs going off, illuminating their faces occasionally, you'd think it was a muggle photograph, the Malfoy’s stood so still. Harry found this unnerving, but his hatred for Lucius Malfoy prevented him from feeling sorry for him. His eyes wandered over to Narcissa, still somehow striking as always even with the look of misery etched on her face, and then to Draco Malfoy, who's expression made Harry's arm hair stand on end. He looked terrible. His eyes laid deep and hooded in their sockets, and his cheekbones were more defined than Harry remembered them being. His blonde hair was longer, and uncharacteristically unkempt. Harry began to read the article underneath the photo.

“Lucius Malfoy, Known previously for his significant influence at the Ministry Of Magic, is now due to stand trial for his crimes as a Death Eater during You Know Who’s reign of terror. He is currently being held in a high security cell in Azkaban, while his Wife, Narcissa, (left) and son, Draco, (right) are at their home in Wiltshire under Auror supervision. It is yet unclear whether they too will receive trials for their part in the atrocities. Lucius Malfoy will stand trial on the 17th of September, and the Wizengamot encourages any witnesses of Lucius Malfoy's crimes to please come forward to give a statement.”

Harry looked at the photo again, and thought angrily of all the times he had been a ‘witness’ to Lucius Malfoy acting under Voldemort's orders. Without thinking, Harry pulled his wand out from his pocket and silently performed a summoning spell for a pot of ink, a quill and some parchment. Immediately he heard a cry of pain followed by a smash of glass from somewhere above him. Harry had momentarily forgotten he was at the Weasley’s, not in his own kitchen at 12 Grimmauld Place. A piece of torn parchment zoomed into the room and into his hand, and a quill landed neatly in front of him.  
Harry looked at the parchment - it was half full of words in an untidy scrawl, and a long line of ink trailed from the last written letter.  
A few seconds later, Harry heard the sound of footsteps hammering down the stairs, and then,  
“What’d you do that for?”  
Ron stalked into the kitchen, black ink splattered all up his left pyjama leg. He looked exhausted, and annoyed.  
“Sorry mate, didn't think.” Harry got up quickly and pointed his wand at the stain on Ron’s pyjamas and muttered “Scourgify” to which the ink disappeared completely.  
Ron yawned and dropped into a chair opposite Harry's unoccupied seat and pulled the newspaper towards him, spinning it round to face him.  
‘S’fine. It was a rubbish report anyway, can't do anything the morning after a raid. What did you need my stationary for?”  
Harry dropped back into his seat and gestured to the paper Ron was looking at.  
“Look at this. They're asking for evidence against the Malfoy’s. I wanted to write a letter to the department of Magical Law Enforcement.”  
“Hang on, are you mental?”  
“Wh- Sorry?”  
“The Daily Prophet will have an absolute ball if you start telling stories about Malfoy no one else has heard. Don’t you think the ministry has enough evidence to put Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban for the rest of his sodding life already? I know what kind of charges they already have Harry. They're just doing this for the media fanfare. Get dirt on Malfoy to take the attention away from the fact the entire Ministry got infiltrated by Death Eaters. I’d leave it mate, honestly.”  
Harry considered this. It was true, they must have countless charges against Malfoy already, but Hermione had said in her letter to consider “Doing something about it.”  
“Uh, yea ok. I’ll think about it some more, then.”  
Something large and brown suddenly swooped in through the open kitchen window, dropped two envelopes on top of the newspaper, hooted, and perched itself delicately over the fireplace next to the Weasley’s floo powder pot. The boys picked up the envelopes.  
“Hogwarts?” said Ron, turning his envelope over to look at the red wax crest sealing it shut. Harry frowned curiously and tore the letter open.

Dear Mister Potter,

Hogwarts Board of Governors has decided to offer all students who did not complete their N.E.W.T studies last year an additional year of study to complete their magical education and sit their examinations. Students who accept this offer should send their reply with the owl delivering this letter. If you do decide to return, attached is a list of supplies and books you will need depending on which subjects you decided to study in your 6th year. Term starts as usual on September 1st. All 8th year students will have a shared living space, separate from their house common rooms. As adults, we expect mutual respect and cooperation with the other students from different houses during your final stay at Hogwarts.

Regards,

Professor McGonagall

Harry's heart was pounding. Go back to Hogwarts? Finish studying?  
He looked up at Ron grinning, but his smile faltered when he saw the twisted expression on Ron's face.  
“What's wrong? Don’t you want to go back?”  
“Hogwarts… well, I got a job haven’t I? I don't need to do NEWT’s. And neither do you Harry, everyone wants you in the Ministry.”  
“I don't want a job in the Ministry. I don't want a job anywhere. I just...”  
Harry looked at the parchment in his hands. This letter that came every year for him had miraculously appeared for him again for the eighth year. Of course he was going back. He’d had countless offers of jobs from all over the Ministry, the Aurors, Curse Breakers, even the Department of Mysteries had owl’d him. But none of that seemed even remotely appealing to Harry anymore.  
Ron looked across the table at Harry, and smiled.  
“When the Ministry hears you’re going back there Harry they’ll have my arse for it, they’ll reckon I encouraged you to go back so, for the record, I told you that you were barmy and going back is a massive waste of time, got it?”  
“Harry grinned at his best friend, and allowed himself to feel the elation he’d had when he read his letter. He was going back to Hogwarts.  
“Got it.” Harry said.  
“Brilliant. You’re coming here for Christmas though, alright?”

***

Harry appeared with a pop at the top of Hogsmeade, only slightly losing his balance on the steep incline. He had decided against taking the Hogwarts Express to school now that he was a fully legal wizard, and could apparate close enough to the school. It also meant he wouldn’t have to deal with the crowds of people clamouring over him like every other time he stepped out into the public wizarding community.  
It was still very early in the morning, Harry had wanted to set off before most people were up and about, and in plenty of time of the other students arriving. He also wanted to talk to McGonagall before everything got underway. He felt like he owed it to her, and thank her for allowing him to return. Harry began the long walk up to the castle from Hogsmeade, first passing the shops and pubs of the high street, then ascending the winding path up towards the castle, which he eventually saw looming above him as he reached the top of the hill. It stood as grand as ever before him, the tall towers and spires stretching into the sky, and at the base of it, the Black Lake glimmered in the morning sunlight, stiller than Harry had seen it in a long time. It looked almost like a mirror, with shadows of life hidden deep beneath its glassy surface. Harry continued on until he reached the courtyard, and stopped in front of the old castle doors. They looked the same as they always had, but on closer inspection Harry could see the cracks and scars they had acquired during the Battle of Hogwarts, the legacy of spells and debris that pummelled the castle evident on its old surface. Harry reached out a hand and felt the ridges of the wood, remembering everything that happened that night. He hadn't been back since, and felt a pang of guilt for not being here for the restoration. 

“‘Arry?” A familiar booming voice brought Harry out of his thoughts, and he turned around, a grin appearing across his face.  
“Hagrid!” He saw the half-giant walking towards him from the courtyard, his big beard obscuring the huge smile that Harry knew laid beneath. He was in his usual moleskin coat, keys jangling from somewhere within, and he reached his arms out towards Harry as he came closer, and engulfed him in a crushing hug. Everything went dark, and Harry was momentarily buried among the folds of his coat and bushy beard. He resurfaced, and looked up into the glimmer eyes of his friend.  
“Bit early aren’t ye?”  
“Yea, well, thought I’d come and take a look at the place before everyone got here. How’s it been, Hagrid?”  
“Oh not too bad, mostly bin tidyin’ this place up a bit after... well y’know. Was a bi’ messy like.” Harry thought this was the understatement of the century, but smiled and nodded at the larger man. He looked around the courtyard and raised his eyebrows, impressed. The castle was practically rubble the last time he saw it, but it had been thoughtfully rebuilt to its former glory.  
“You've done a hell of a job Hagrid, it's perfect.”  
“Ahh, well it wasn't jus’ me, I had a load of ‘elp. The centaurs came up to ‘elp, an’ a load of witches and wizards from Hogsmeade. The other teachers too o’course, and even the Mur-people in The Lake did their bit. That’s bin ‘orrible though, the Lake. All sorts of stuff’s bin washin’ up on the shore. Some ruddy Death Eater scum even managed to go and murder our Giant Squid.”  
Harry stared up at Hagrid, in disbelief.  
“What? The Squid? That thing was huge, how on earth-”  
“‘Arry I couldn't tell ye. He just was floatin’ there on the surface. Very sad, they reckon he was here since the founders built the place. Its not just that though, It's very strange actually. The Mer-people’ve been tellin’ me some of their lot bin goin’ missin’, even now. But I’ve not found nothin’ yet that explains it. I offered to ‘ave the Mer-people moved to a lake nearby, and tha’ we could protect it for ‘em, but they’re havin’ none of it. Stubborn beings, ‘Arry. Course, you’d know all abou’ that.”  
Harry considered this. He remembered how dark and murky it was in the Lake, and how inconceivably massive it was under the surface. He personally thought it would be pretty easy to go missing down there, but if this was unusual for the Mer-people, then maybe something really wasn't right.  
“Anyway, don’ want to keep ye ‘Arry, you head on in, I’ll see you tonigh’ at the feast. Gotta go prepare for all the youngen's arrivin’!”  
“Yea, ok Hagrid. I’ll see you later!”  
And so, with a huge smile and a wave of his giant hand, which sent a gust that lifted Harry's hair and stung his eyes, Hagrid turned and walked out of the paved courtyard, and down towards his hut on the side of the sparkling, still lake.

***

After muttering the password (still ‘Dumbledore’) and ascending up the revolving staircase, Harry knocked lightly on the door of the Headmistress’s office. He swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. Maybe he was being a bit presumptuous, coming up here uninvited all of a sudden.  
The door swung inwards, and a slightly stern but familiar voice ordered,  
“Come in, Potter.”  
Harry tentatively stepped into the office. With a glance around, he noticed it looked slightly different, but wholly welcoming. Red drapes hung from the ceiling, and tartan cushions decorated the furniture. There were fewer magical instruments than when Dumbledore had resided here, but the atmosphere was very much still alive with magic. Against the furthest wall, a roaring fire was burning in the hearth, with an enormous teapot brewing itself within the flames, steam pouring out of the spout. Plenty of books lined the shelves surrounding it, the flicker of flames from the fire reflecting off their shiny leather spines. Harry turned his head inwards, and smiled when he saw the Headmasters’ portraits; some snoozing, some cheerfully waving at him. Harry's eyes found Dumbledore’s for a second, which glinted at Harry over half-moon spectacles.  
“Tea, Potter?” Harry tore his eyes from the painting of Dumbledore and looked at McGonagall. She was sitting at her polished desk, dressed in black robes and a witches’ hat, with her arm gesturing towards a pair of china cups on the desk. To Harry’s relief, she was smiling.  
“I'd love some.”  
with a flick of her wrist, the giant teapot floated gently towards her, and poured steaming amber liquid into their teacups.  
“I hoped you might pay me a visit Potter. Please, take a seat. There are biscuits in that tin there, please help yourself.” Harry glanced once more over his shoulder at the portrait of Dumbledore, who was now snoozing, or at least pretending to, in his painted chair, before stepping forward and taking the seat opposite McGonagall. He picked up his tea, which has just finished adding milk to itself, just to Harry's liking, and a custard cream from the biscuit tin.  
“I am extremely pleased you chose to return to Hogwarts, Harry. I was certain I would get no reply from you, and find out you had taken a job at the Auror Office. I wonder why you have chosen to come back here, rather than pursue that path? As I recall, that was the only thing you were interested in as a career choice.” The Professor eyed Harry over her glasses, but in a kind, almost motherly way. Harry took a sip of tea and thought about what he wanted to say.  
“I did want that, Professor, until I actually spent months chasing and fighting dark wizards. I think I've had enough of that, at least for the time being.” Harry paused, and bit on his custard cream. He didn't know what else to say. He didn't really want to tell her all the reasons, like the fear, the self doubt, the need for feeling like he belonged. However, looking up at McGonagall and seeing her serious face soften, he got the feeling she knew what he meant.  
“I understand, Potter. I cannot imagine what it has been like for you for the last few months. I really am glad you have decided to finish your education this year. I also think you'll find your last year at Hogwarts a much needed break from… the public.” The Headmistress took a sip of tea, and gave Harry a meaningful look over the rim of the cup. Images of his own face on the covers of countless wizarding newspapers and magazines flashed before Harry's memory, and a surge of appreciation for the witch warmed within him.  
“Thank you Professor, I think it will, too.”  
“That doesn’t mean to say this year will be easy. NEWT’s are still extremely difficult qualifications, and will require your full attention and effort.” Harry smiled. If there was anyone who could make Harry feel like an ordinary student, it was McGonagall.  
“Yes professor.” Harry ate the rest of his custard cream, and reached for another. From experience, Harry knew taking just one biscuit did not suffice when in the hospitality of McGonagall.  
“Good. now. I Just wanted to inform you of a few things before you get started. Obviously you are my first choice as Head Boy-” Harry’s choke interrupted McGonagall’s sentence, and he quickly gulped at his tea to clear his throat.  
“But as I expected,” She said over Harry’s spluttering,  
“You probably want to keep a low profile, and being Head Boy of Hogwarts isn’t exactly ideal for such endeavours.”  
Harry blinked, and smiled gratefully through watering eyes.  
“As such, may I ask for your opinion on whom I should instead bestow this privilege?”  
Harry pondered this. His mind went immediately to Ron, but as he wasn’t returning… A moment later a surge of inspiration gave him his answer.  
“Neville. Neville should be Head Boy. He... he really does deserve it.”  
Another smile issued from McGonagall's countenance.  
“A wise choice, I whole-heartedly agree. I have already decided Head Girl will be Ginny Weasley. Those two were a great testament to the school during the dark times.”  
“They'll do a great job.” Harry looked at the reflection of the fire on the side of his teacup and thought about Ginny. They had called off their relationship when Harry had told her he felt her more as a sister than a lover. She had taken it extremely well, which made Harry think maybe she was having the same feelings too, but had been too afraid to voice them after all Harry had been through. He still loved her very much, and couldn't wait to see her face when she found out she had been chosen for Head Girl.  
“Well that's settled then. Mr Longbottom and Miss Weasley will be informed at the beginning of tonight's feast.” McGonagall returned her now empty cup to its saucer. Harry sensed that the conversation was coming to an end, so drank the remains of his own tea and copied her action.  
“Just one more thing Potter.”  
Harry looked intently at his Headmistress, dubious at the serious inflection of her voice.  
“Draco Malfoy will also be returning to Hogwarts this year. Now I know-”  
“Malfoy?” Harry interrupted. “I read in the Prophet he was being held with his mother in Malfoy Manor.”  
“You read correctly, Potter. However, his Mother insisted on him returning to Hogwarts as he is still entitled to finish his education, just as you are.”  
“But… Professor, I saw what Voldemort made him do, the things he was involved in, he’s dangero-”  
“I do believe, Potter, that you still have his wand.”  
Harry blinked, taken aback. Of course, she was right. He’d completely forgotten he still had it. Harry tried to remember where he had stored it, but couldn't for the life of him remember where it was. He was a little bit blurry on the events that happened immediately after defeating the most powerful dark wizard of all time, it seemed.  
“Didn’t he get a new one?”  
“The Malfoy’s, as you just mentioned, have been in custody ever since the attack on Hogwarts. Malfoy will be returning to Hogwarts wandless, and hopefully on his best behaviour, as he awaits trial for his crimes. I have been assured the boy will cause no trouble, and the reason I am telling you this is to ask you to do the same.”  
Harry frowned and pushed back his dark hair. After a few moments, he leaned back into the chair and sighed, thinking about the picture of the Malfoy’s he had seen in the prophet a few days ago. Draco did look dejected, and miserable, and without his wand Harry didn't really think he was much of a threat to the students of Hogwarts anymore. Plus, coming back to Hogwarts would mean there were plenty of eyes on him to keep him in shape if he ever did step out of line. McGonagall cleared her throat.  
“Promise me, Potter, that you will try and keep a civil tone around him. I understand you two didn’t get along, especially now with all of your history and the Death Eater business. But it is essential that you do, as many of the students returning will no doubt look to you as a role model.”  
Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He didn't need to be reminded that he was being constantly watched, stared at, and scrutinised. Coming back to Hogwarts was supposed to be an escape from all that, but now, he realised, eyes will most definitely still be on him. He looked up at McGonagall.  
“I’ll try my best Professor.”  
“Promise me Potter.”  
“I promise.”  
“Good. Now, off you go. You can be the first to get settled into your new dormitory. I think you will find it very suitable, we put a lot of thought into it when we rebuilt the castle, so do go and enjoy your new space.”  
They both got up from the desk, and McGonagall walked Harry to the door. They stood looking at each other, Harry standing a couple of inches taller than the older witch. She smiled gently at him, and put a hand on his arm.  
“I really am glad you came back, Potter. I think you made the right choice by doing so.” Harry gave her a small smile in return.  
“Me too, Professor.”

***

The new common room was brilliant. A new wing had been erected on the south side of the castle, and at the top of it, on the 4th floor, a marvellous residence for the 8th years. It was guarded by a marble statue of an embracing couple, who, when given the password, would mournfully separate from each other, revealing a stone archway leading into the common room. It was just as cosy as the Gryffindor common room, but with an aura of maturity - there were no house colours, the walls were either stone or panelled wood, decorated with various historic artefacts from the long, rich history of the School. Old black and white photographs of quidditch matches, the players zooming in and out of the frames, moving portraits of notable alumni of the school, and, Harry's favourite piece in the room, a giant, colourful tapestry of the four founding members of Hogwarts, all intricately sewn with glittering threads to make a wonderful centrepiece over the enormous fireplace. Around a corner Harry was pleased to see McGonagall had thought to include a small dining area. He appreciated her forethought that some occupants may not feel all too keen on the idea of going to the Great Hall for meals every day. Two spiral staircases lead to the boys and girls rooms, but instead of a shared room and washroom for all of them, the top of the staircases led to circular landings with doors leading off from it, each with initials stamped on at eye level in gold. Harry had climbed the staircase of the boys tower, found the door with H.P inscribed upon it, and gripped the handle. A warm tingling sensation passed through his fingers as he grasped it, and Harry presumed this was some sort of magical security measure that recognised Harry trying to enter his own room. He imagined that someone other than himself trying to enter would have an entirely different and more unpleasant sensation pass through their hand.  
He opened the door to a reasonably sized room, and saw a classic Hogwarts four poster bed with scarlet bedding standing centrally against the back wall. a dark wooden wardrobe stood on the furthest wall from him with a small door leading off to what Harry assumed was a private bathroom. A simple desk and bookcase filled the nearest wall. A pair of red and gold curtains was hanging closed opposite the bed, a thin slither of light filtering through the small gap, showcasing swirling particles of dust rising in the spotlight. Harry stepped forwards towards the window, pulled the curtains apart, and his eyes widened.  
The view from his bedroom window was breathtaking. He could see all the way down into the grounds. There was Hagrid's Hut, sat squat on the lawn, oozing blueish woodsmoke from the chimney, and the Great Lake lay glimmering before him in the afternoon light. He could see along the whole eastern shore of it, the tiny waves crashing into the border of pebbles that surrounded the vast body of water. He imagined himself late at night, watching through his window from his bed as the giant squid came up for air in the moonlight, but then remembered dejectedly about what Hagrid had told him earlier that day about it having been killed after the battle. He scanned the shore of the Lake to see if anything had been washed up like Hagrid had mentioned, but saw nothing but thousands of pebbles and boulders, and the occasional splash of water on the rocks. He turned away from the window and looked happily into his cosy room. He flopped onto the bed and breathed in the smell of the fresh, yet slightly musty sheets. He was home, at last.

***

“HEAD GIRL!” Ginny shrieked as she held the unfolded parchment McGonagall had slipped in front of her just seconds earlier.  
“HARRY! LOOK, IT SAYS-”  
“Shhh Ginny, you’ll scare the first years.” Harry grinned as he watched her freckled face fill with pure joy. They were sat at the Gryffindor table, the evening sun bathing the Great Hall in an orange glow, waiting for the first years to arrive for the sorting ceremony. The sun trickled in through the windows, the last warm light of the day, and shone onto Ginny’s body, setting her orange hair aflame.  
“Anyway, I knew you were going to be Head Girl, McGonagall told me earlier.”  
“Oh, I can't believe it Harry. Mums going to be so pleased!” Ginny threw herself into Harrys’ chest, winding him, and he embraced the Weasley, struggling to breathe. Over her shoulder he saw McGonagall give a little smirk, then drink from her goblet. Harry grinned and pulled away from Ginny and instinctively looked across the table at Neville, who also clutched a piece of parchment in his hands. However, his face was contorted with confusion rather than joy.  
“But..” Neville's eyes scanned the page, back and forth, and then flickered upwards to connect with Harry’s.  
“I thought you would be Head Boy, Harry. I… I cant believe McGonagall actually chose me.” Harry felt his face go hot, but hoped the deep orange light of the Great Hall camouflaged his embarrassment.  
“I think you're going to be the best Head Boy and Girl Hogwarts has ever seen.” Harry said simply. Like McGonagall had said, Neville and Ginny had done an outstanding job of protecting Hogwarts whilst under the rule of the Carrow's, and Harry thought this was the perfect way to recognise all they did for the school during its darkest days. Neville's face relaxed, and he allowed himself a grin.  
Ginny then exploded into conversation with Neville about their newly appointed statuses, so Harry looked around the hall, leaving them to revel in the good news. He recognised nearly all of the faces at the tables now, except some of the youngest students. They all recognised him too by the looks of it, many of them pointing and whispering, some waving and giggling. Harry politely smiled as he looked around, pretending he didn't mind the attention. Glancing over to the Slytherin table, he wasn't surprised to see there were only around half as many students sat on that table than the other houses. He suddenly remembered what McGonagall had said about Draco Malfoy, and quickly scanned the length of the table for a white blond head, but to no avail. Malfoy wasn’t there. Harry exhaled, and turned back around to face the other Gryffindor's. 

After the sorting ceremony and the always incredible feast, (Harry hadn't realised how much he'd missed treacle tart, and proceeded to have 4 helpings.) Harry and the other 8th years went to their new common room. He beamed as he watched his friends take in the new scenery, all oohing and ahhing at the incredible collection of history the room was museum to. Here and there he heard comparisons to the old dormitories (“well the library isn't exactly as vast as the one in Ravenclaw tower…” “he fireplace in Gryffindor was double the size of this one!”) but on the whole it seemed everyone was satisfied with the new living arrangements, especially with the addition of the new private bedrooms. Harry quickly learned that his guess about the door handles was correct, when a screech of pain was heard from the boys landing. The other boys ran up the stairs and found Seamus on his knees in front of one of the doors, one hand wrapped around the other.  
“DEAN! Your bloody door handle burned me!” Seamus screeched, and shakily opened his palm to reveal a glowing “D.T” stamped on his palm. He looked murderous as the three other boys roared with laughter.  
After looking in each other's rooms and admiring the views out of their respective windows, Harry’s being the only one with a Lake view, eliciting many murmurs of envy from the others, the boys went back downstairs to join the girls in pursuit of snooping around their tower. Harry, who was now exhausted, told them to go on without him. He lingered on the small landing for a moment, feeling happier than he had been in months. As he turned to re-enter his own room, he glanced at the door of the one room they had not entered. Upon it, the golden initials “D.M” glimmered in the candle light. Harry paused, hand tingling on his own door handle, the thought of having to share a dormitory with Draco Malfoy lingering in his mind. His absence at the feast raised curiosity within Harry, but he quickly rid himself of the thought, and reminded himself that this year, he'd promised McGonagall that all would be well, no more fighting, no more rivalry, which also included no more being suspicious of Draco Malfoy. He pushed his way into his room and the solid door clicked shut behind him, marking the end of his first day of his final year at Hogwarts.

McGonagall wasn't exaggerating when she said that NEWT’s were going to be tough. Harry had been given more homework in his first week than he could have imagined possible. Harry looked down at the utter chaos of parchment, spell books and ink set before him. Only one week had passed and he was already swamped. He gave a dramatic sigh, and held his head in his hands. He closed his eyes, and listened. He could hear the rain pitter pattering on the window panes, the fire roaring in the enormous fireplace, gentle conversation from the other 8th years spending their Sunday evening in the common room. Ginny, who had made a habit of joining Harry in the new common room most evenings instead of Gryffindor tower, sat on the sofa opposite Harry. She snickered. Harry looked up and glared at her.  
“I don't know what you're laughing about, Ginny, you have the same homework as I do.”  
Ginny gave an unconcerned glance down at her more organised pile of homework and smiled.  
“Potions essays and Transfiguration theory is a breeze compared to what we had to put up with last year. Plus, Head Girl responsibilities are putting way more pressure on me than homework. I actually quite enjoy doing homework now.”  
Harry looked at her unconvinced. She crossed her legs and tucked a strand of orange hair behind her ear. The light from the fire beside them flickered against her pale skin. Even though they were not dating anymore, Harry found it hard not to be impressed by the soft glow of her prettiness.  
“Honestly, as long as there's no Death Eaters around, NEWT’s will be a breeze.”  
The now familiar sound of marble on marble indicated someone was entering the common room, and Harry glanced over his shoulder automatically, before a cold chill froze him on the spot.  
Draco Malfoy stepped into the archway of the common room entrance, stony faced, and completely drenched. His blonde hair was damp, his angular face shining with slick rainwater. Harry watched as Malfoy moved into the common room, dripping water on the flagstone floor. His grey, sunken eyes scanned the room ruefully, careful to avoid direct eye contact, until his gaze eventually found the boys’ dormitory staircase, and without a single word or acknowledgement to any of the inhabitants of the common room, all of whom were now staring silently at the very damp Malfoy, he swiftly crossed the room, ascended the spiral staircase and eventually disappeared from sight. Harry exhaled, and looked at Ginny meaningfully. The fire beside her seemed to have died down a little.  
“I’d completely forgotten about Malfoy coming back.” Ginny said, darkly.  
“Yea me too.”  
Harry looked at the window next to the mantlepiece, watching the rain thrum against the glass. He pondered for a moment about what Malfoy could’ve been doing for the last 7 days, but was quickly brought back to the room by a swat on his arm.  
“C'mon Harry, that potions essay is due tomorrow. you can have a look at mine if you want. Don’t waste any of your thoughts on that heartless rag.” Harry raised an eyebrow at her, surprised by her mean spirit. Ginny looked down at the dark wet trail Malfoy had left in his wake.  
“I knew a Death Eater-free Hogwarts was too good to be true.”

***

Harry didn't have to wait long before he got an explanation for Malfoy’s absence. It came in the form of his Daily Prophet, which was dropped in his cereal the next morning by a ruffled looking post-owl. Harry saw the article as he browsed the paper, and his pulse quickened when he saw the photograph of Malfoy being escorted from Malfoy Manor beside the title of the article. He skimmed through the piece until he found what he was looking for.

“...was meant to be returning to his education at Hogwarts, until magical law enforcement detected a concealed wand in his possession.  
“Mr Malfoy has attempted to bring a stolen wand into Hogwarts, but as he is under investigation for his crimes involving You Know Who, he is not permitted to carry a wand. We were already on guard as he was wandless on arrest, and suspicious that he’d hidden it to avoid confiscation. Malfoy was detained and questioned this week about the incident, and continues to insist he has no idea of the location of his own wand.” - R. Lewis, Senior detective in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

This criminal act does not bode well for the young Malfoy. We tried to reach out to his Father, Lucius Malfoy, who was found guilty of his crimes only a few days ago, but we were denied access to the top-security wing of Azkaban.”

Harry finished the article and looked up from his paper. Malfoy had tried to bring a wand to Hogwarts? Seeing as he’d have to have kept that a secret from the teachers and students, Harry could only think that Malfoy’s motives for trying to get a wand into Hogwarts weren’t entirely innocent. Harry looked across the room and over to the Slytherin table. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was not present at breakfast. Harry presumed that Malfoy was avoiding drawing any more unwanted attention on himself, and had probably made use of the common room dining area, which Harry had learned filled up with food 3 times a day at the same time as the tables in the Great Hall did. Harry checked his watch and saw he was late for Potions, so downed his pumpkin juice, threw his Daily Prophet into his heavy bag and quickly made for the dungeons.

Sprinting, Harry launched himself into the potions classroom, earning the response of almost every head in the class turning to look at him.  
“Sorry I’m late Professor Slughorn, I-”  
“Nonsense m’boy! A few minutes of lateness never rusted a cauldron. Come, take a seat. Now as I was saying…” Slughorn continued lecturing, and Harry looked around the cramped potions room, his stomach dropping when he saw where the only vacant space was. Trying not to let his contempt spill over to his demeanour, Harry approached the seat, slung his bag on the counter and sat in the stool next to Draco Malfoy. He glanced at him tentatively and waited, but Malfoy did not react. His grey eyes remained very much fixed on Slughorn, his quill in his slender hand taking notes occasionally. He was ignoring Harry entirely. Slightly relieved, but still unnerved, Harry pulled out his own note taking equipment. The lesson contained no practical element today, to Harry’s relief. The idea of having to talk to Malfoy made his heart skip unpleasantly, so he thanked Merlin that this was just a theoretical lesson. However, Harry did feel a little bit hot, overly aware and self conscious sat next to the blonde. It was extremely unusual, seeing someone who was once so full of derision and spite, insults ready at any moment to be hurled at the nearest victim, be so quiet and withdrawn. Harry was anticipating that at any moment he would hear a whispered insult in his ear, or a sharp prod of a quill between his ribs, but nothing ever came. It was highly unsettling, and by the end of the lesson, Harry was thoroughly disconcerted. On one hand, he was happy he didn't have to make unwanted conversation with the boy, especially as he knew he'd have to be polite and non-confrontational as he promised McGonagall, but on the other hand he was put at a slight unease that Malfoy hadn't said something, anything at all, or given him any indication that he was even aware that he was sat next to Harry for the entire lesson. When the bell chimed, Malfoy swiftly packed up and turned to leave. Harry watched him do so with vague confusion, and as he left, looked at the empty space Malfoy had been sat in. there was an air about it that didn't sit well in Harry’s stomach. It wasn't like Harry cared about how Malfoy was feeling, he hated the git after all. This was surely exactly what Harry had wanted from Draco for the whole of the last 6 years of his life - for him to leave him alone. So why did he feel so uneasy?

“Don’t want to be late for your next class too, do you, Harry?” Slughorn's booming voice cut through his musings and Harry snapped back to the present. He realised he was the only one left in the dungeon.  
“No, sir. I… I’ll be going now.”

The rest of the day passed in a haze for Harry. He didn't sit next to Malfoy in any of his other classes they had together, but he was consistently ignored by him regardless of where in the room they were both located. He found himself paying less and less attention to the lessons, and more and more attention focused on the blonde as the day went on. Malfoy looked only slightly less dishevelled in person that he did in the pictures Harry had seen in the papers. His hair had grown unruly, falling in strands over his ears and down the back of his neck. There was a gauntness about his face - reminding Harry of Sirius when he’d just escaped Azkaban. Harry wondered if Malfoy had been to Azkaban yet, whether this was just a general trait of those who’d been there. Harry also considered this might just be Malfoy getting older, losing the boyish roundness and inheriting the Black family bone structure. It was strange to think that the Malfoy’s were related to the Blacks, but Draco’s face described the family line perfectly through his cheekbones. They were particularly noticeable during their Herbology lesson, where a ray of sun had filtered through the glass ceiling of Greenhouse One and struck Draco directly on the corner of his face, putting his cheek into sharp relief against the bone, his hair also glowing as if from within. In this moment Harry realised he was staring at Malfoy, and hastily looked away. Why was he just sitting there, every lesson? Why did he seem so… broken? Harry had anticipated him being moody, argumentative, full of anger, but this Malfoy just looked and acted as if he'd given up. And for some reason, this did not please Harry as he thought it would have, it just made him sad. Malfoy was once full of spirit, albeit a pretty unpleasant, mean spirit, but now he was acting like a dementor had already sucked his soul out of him.

Harry wasn't the only one staring in some lessons, particularly the practical ones. The new Transfiguration Professor had given them the particularly difficult task of transforming a desk into a Dalmatian, and seeing as Malfoy no longer possessed a wand, he could not participate. Instead, he sat at his table, quiet as ever, taking notes, copying from a textbook and paying absolutely no attention to the chaos going on around him. Even when Dean managed to transform his table into a raging half-desk half-dog monstrosity, causing panic and screams from around the room, Draco didn't even turn to look. This unwittingly frustrated Harry so much that he messed up some of his spells on purpose, just to try and make Malfoy turn around. Nothing worked however, and the blonde remained un-phased in his own unbothered bubble, much to Harry’s frustration.

Once the day's timetable had been completed, Harry trudged back to the 8th year common room, feeling deflated. He bypassed all the talkative inhabitants of the common room and up the stairs to his bedroom. Once inside, he let himself fall heavily onto the cushy bed. It was a good few minutes before he moved again, he had his head buried comfortably in the feather pillows, eyes closed against the blackness. Eventually he rolled over, and fell into a restless sleep in the dying light of the day, waking a few hours later to find himself bathed in moonlight from his window. He blinked, bringing his vision to focus and looked at the clock on the wall. The spindly hands read 10.03 pm. He’d slept through the evening, exhaustion overcoming him from the draining day, and missed dinner. There was no chance he'd be getting back to sleep anytime soon, so Harry dragged himself up from his bed and trudged into the bathroom. He took a quick sobering shower, and changed into an old grey shirt and some baggy plaid pyjama bottoms. He brushed his teeth and spell-dried his dark hair, which had grown to be long and ever more unruly. He went downstairs into the abandoned common room, the embers of the fire still glowing in the pit, and made himself a steaming hot chocolate, smiling when he saw 3 custard creams appear on a plate next to his mug. He took them back upstairs to his room and sat on the end of his bed, looking out at the stunning view.  
The leaves of the trees that stood at the base of the mountains were speckled with silver light, thinning as the hills rose into vertical peaks, the rock faces shining like marble with the dewy condensation that lay upon them. Touching the velvety sky, the mountains faded into a smattering of glittering stars. It was a mostly clear night, constellations visible for Harry to gaze upon, only slightly darkened by some clouds that threatened rain coming in from the east. The full moon hung gracefully in the sky, too massive to be real. Its light shone so brightly onto the Lake that its reflection glowed with just as much intensity, sparkling on the wet surface. Harry got up from the bed and rested his forehead on the glass window to see the lake more clearly. It really was magnificent, even more awe inspiring when he considered its danger. Harry was always wary of it, but respected and sort of admired its hazardousness, in the same way as he admired the Forbidden Forest. They weren't just habitats containing dangerous creatures, they were living, breathing parts of Hogwarts, with their own personalities and secrets. As Harry contemplated this, he saw from the corner of his window a black, cloaked figure approach the edge of the Lake, and sit down on a boulder by the shore. Harry stared at the hooded figure, perplexed. That wasn't Hagrid was it? He glanced over to the hut that stood the furthest end of the Lake, but it was shadowed, windows unlit, and the smoke seeping from the chimney was but a thin wisp.  
Hagrid was surely asleep by now. Plus the figure was very much human sized, not Hagrid sized.  
Harry looked hard at the figure. He had no lantern or light of any sort, Harry could barely see it, and if it weren't for Harry having watched it come into view, he knew he wouldn't have noticed it at all. Harry watched the figure, but it just sat on the rock, legs folded beneath them, unmoving for several minutes. It was so still, Harry wondered what on earth the figure could be doing. Meditating maybe? It was facing the Lake, an unmoving speck of black among the silvery rocks. About 10 minutes passed of the stranger staring at the Lake, and Harry staring at the stranger, before the first drops of rain started to tap on the pane of glass Harry was gazing out of. Harry glanced at the rain now coming down hard and fast on the pane, before returning his gaze to the stranger below, who suddenly got up onto its feet. Harry, who had sat back down on his bed by this point, hot chocolate and biscuits forgotten about, also got up, pressing his face once again against the glass. He watched as the cloaked figure walked back over the pebbles, and onto the lawn towards the castle, and then out of sight. Harry waited, breathing clouds against the glass, to see if the figure would return. It didn't. Harry sighed in mild frustration, but pulled himself away from the window and got into bed, the sound of the falling rain luring him into hypnotised sleep. 

***

Harry woke with a start and fumbled for his wand on his bedside table. He grasped it, panting, and held it in front of him defensively, before he realised any danger he had perceived was just imaginary. Nightmares like this had become fairly regular for Harry, but in this one, just before he woke, he had felt a horrible burning sensation in his lungs, like they had been filled with water, causing him to lose his breath. Blinking in the darkness he noticed a thin blurry yellow light filtering from underneath his bedroom door. Harry quietly reached for his glasses and pushed them onto his face. Uncovering himself from the heavy duvet he crept towards the door, listening closely to the other side. He heard a couple of swift footsteps on stone, a faint creak of a door, a quick blowing noise - the light under his door immediately extinguishing following it, and a click of a latch. Harry lingered for a few seconds contemplating what he had heard, before deciding on silently opening his own door. He pushed it open and looked around, seeing nothing but blackness. He silently cast ‘Lumos’ illuminating the dark circular landing in a cold blue glow from the tip of his wand. He couldn't tell which of the doors had just closed from behind his own, so aimed the wand light down at the floor, searching for any clues. There was nothing. Except…  
He followed what he thought might be dark droplets of water left along the flagstones, until he came to a door. Pointing his wand up the doorframe, he saw in glittering monochrome the initials D.M inscribed upon the wooden door. Harry blinked and paused momentarily, before leaning in and concentrating with all his might to focus on hearing something, anything at all, before the sound of a twisting door handle behind him made him jump out of his skin. He spun around, his wand outstretched, to find a squinting Seamus Finnegan emerging from his room, a hand raised in front of his face, blocking Harry’s wand light.  
“Bloody hell Harry, what are you doing up? I thought I heard someone out here. lower your wand, would you?” Seamus said in a whisper. Harry straightened up immediately and did as Seamus asked, feeling flustered and embarrassed. Had Seamus seen him trying to eavesdrop on Malfoy? Seamus blinked a couple of times, giving Harry a curious look before asking,  
“Was gonna make myself a cuppa if you fancied it. It's a bit early, I know, but I can't get used to these bleedin’ beds. I’d worn my old one in nicely over the years, you know?”  
Harry nodded tentatively. “What time is it?”  
“5 in the morning.”  
Bloody hell. He’d barely slept. Harry glanced back into his dark room, and knowing that he would never get back to sleep now and wake up in time for classes, closed its door and followed Seamus down into the common room for a very early cup of tea, attempting to leave all thoughts of Malfoy and the Lake on the dormitory landing. 

***

What had Malfoy been up to last night? Why had he been so late? And was it him in the cloak down at the Lake?  
These were some of the questions bouncing around Harry's brain for the rest of the day he'd had such an early start to. Harry blamed it on the lack of sleep, but he felt utterly disconcerted with this new situation he'd been confronted with. Draco Malfoy was up to something. Of course, Harry had already considered the possibility he was making a big deal out of nothing, given Malfoy and his past,- but he was not exactly behaving normally, at least in Harry’s opinion. Malfoy was uncharacteristically well behaved; he was never late, didn't cause disruptions, wasn't making jokes or comments about anything, he wasn't even asking questions. Harry thought it was entirely not in Draco’s character and it was making him very suspicious. He was being too good. Too quiet. Harry could only derive that he was therefore hiding something. Harry ignored the tugging feeling in his stomach when he thought about how broken and vulnerable Malfoy had looked when he’d seen him. Someone who looks like they didn't seem capable of being up to anything evil. But all the other things he'd seen and heard about Malfoy still made him suspicious, regardless of Malfoy’s appearance. He spoke to Ginny about it after classes that evening, once again in front of a huge stack of homework, across from the common room fireplace. He asked her if she had also noticed his odd behaviour, and she frowned at him.

“Harry, you realise he's just about to go on trial. The whole ‘stolen wand’ drama probably scared him straight, he probably just doesn't want to ruffle any more feathers or he’ll end up rotting in Azkaban for as long as his father is.” Ginny looked at him with eyebrows raised, and then looked back at her parchment and carried on scribbling out an essay. Harry considered her words. It made sense that Draco wouldn't want to cause any more trouble, but he seemed more distracted than just ‘trying to behave.’ He was totally unavailable, like his attention was focussed elsewhere entirely. Harry thought about earlier that day when he tried getting Malfoy to pay attention to him by ‘accidently’ launching a potted fig plant across the greenhouse, making it explode loudly against a table, grabbing everyone's attention except the one boy he wanted it from. Malfoy didn't even bat an eyelid, and Harry lost 10 points for Gryffindor. He hadn't mentioned to Ginny about seeing the figure at the Lake, but that was such a stretch he thought she might find it strange that he was making such conclusions after only seeing the figure one time, and hearing Malfoy go into his room many hours afterwards. Even Harry considered it a bit far-fetched, but something told him he was right in believing that the cloaked figure was Malfoy.  
“Anyway, Harry, shouldn't you focus on your studies instead of rekindling an old obsession over Draco Malfoy?” she raised an eyebrow at him and he felt the flush rise from his neck up his face.  
“I think you'll find the last time I was suspicious of Malfoy it turned out that I was right. He was up to something, remember?” Harry mirrored her eyebrow raise, and Ginny sighed and leaned back into the comfy cushions of the sofa.  
“Yes, you were right about that. But what on earth could a wandless Malfoy be realistically getting up to in Hogwarts these days? The war is over Harry. The danger is gone, there's nothing more Malfoy could do even if he wanted to. He's a sad, powerless ex-Death Eater who's just keeping his head above the surface Harry. I really don't think there's any more to it.” Ginny continued to scratch away at her parchment. Harry frowned into the roaring fire. She was right of course, but something still didn’t sit right with him. Even if Ginny was correct, and Malfoy wasn't actually getting up to anything, he still didn't like the fact he was being so… dull. That's something Malfoy just wasn't. He was arrogant, annoying, condescending. Now he was just… apathetic. Malfoy didn't even look concerned about his fate any more. He looked helpless, broken. and that scared Harry far more than any way Malfoy had behave before. 

Malfoy wasn't at dinner that evening, just as he'd also missed the previous evening meal the day before. Harry deduced this was to be the norm for Malfoy - he’d noticed all of the other 8th years were present in the Great Hall, so Malfoy would have the whole common room to himself at that moment. Harry chewed on a chicken thigh thoughtfully, picturing the pointy blond dining all alone in the room, before dropping the greasy bone onto his plate and pushing the bench out from under his knees, jostling the other two inhabitants either side of him. Neville peered up at him.  
“Where you going-”  
“Feel sick.” Harry mumbled through a mouth stuffed with chicken. He swallowed, wiped his lips with the back of his sleeve and climbed over the bench, ignoring the baffled faces of his friends looking up to see him rapidly exit the Great Hall. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but the last 2 days of Draco Malfoy pointedly ignoring his entire existence and acting like a ghost had lit a fire of burning curiosity inside of him, which he couldn't figure out how to extinguish. He wanted Malfoy to do something. Say something at least. And getting him on his own seemed like the only way of doing it.  
Harry ran up the moving staircases 2 at a time until he got to the floor of the dormitories, and strode down the corridor, until he came to the statue of the embracing couple.  
“Infractus”  
The couple untwined each other's limbs painfully slowly. Harry bounced his leg impatiently. Once the couple had parted enough for Harry to get between them, Harry hurried through them into the common room, turned the corner and eyed the space for Malfoy. He saw the table filled with food, but no one was sitting in front of the silverware. Harry let out a breath, and wandered over to the table in disappointment. Where was Malfoy? This repeating question was getting dizzyingly frustrating as it did laps around Harry's mind on a regular basis. Harry huffed, and placed a heavy hand against the stone wall, and the curiosity inside him sparked and glowered. Harry pictured the blonde in his head, infuriatingly silent and unmoving, as Harry reached for a chicken leg perched at the top of the pile of them on the food table in the common room before chewing on it, unsatisfied, and throwing the clean bone onto the table, where it clattered and rolled into a dish that emitted a metallic clang. Harry huffed again, and turned, sourly towards the boys corridor, until his eyes rose to look at the archway, where he saw a figure, and he paused.  
Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, on the last step of the staircase, one hand resting on the stone of the archway, and the other deep in the pocket of a pair of black trousers. His white school shirt stretched across his torso, his. sleeves rolled to the elbow. Draco wore a look of mild surprise on his shadowed face, and to Harry's utter astonishment, he was staring right at him, his grey eyes glittering under dark lids, his blonde hair messy. Neither of them said anything for a moment and just stared at each other. It was a heavy stare and Harry lapped up every second of eye contact. Harry could see Malfoy's eyes also drinking him in. He'd not actually seen him yet, had he? Malfoy stared at Harry as if he'd never seen him before, eyes working over his entire body, head to toe. Harry shivered at the intrusion, feeling his eyes on his skin. A few moments ago Harry was ready to say anything, to aim questions and accusations, but now he felt at a complete loss for words. What did he want to say again?  
“Potter.” The word escaped Malfoy’s lips and landed on Harry's ears. Potter. It was gentle, careful. He was testing the name on his tongue like a toe dipped in cold water.  
“Malfoy.” the reply came naturally, gratuitously.  
“I thought I heard something down here. You, I suppose.” the way Malfoy spoke was gentle. Harry looked, confused as the blonde stepped down from the archway and approached the dinner table. Harry just stared at him, but Draco had broken their eye contact to look down at the table's offerings. He surveyed the food, and reached for the chicken bone Harry had flung across the table. He picked it up between a slender forefinger and thumb and examined it, turning it in the candle light to examine its bumps and lines, before placing it back on the table, brow creasing, Hooded eyes downcast in introspection.  
Harry watched, perplexed, as the other boy ignored the food entirely, and turned back towards the spiral staircase. Harry wanted Malfoy to carry on, stay there, say something else. A yearning to hear his voice thrummed through Harry, a weird need that, now that had had a taste of, he now needed more. It was a strange feeling, an odd desperation Harry didn't quite understand.  
“What are you doing here?” Harry blurted out.  
Draco paused, a hand mid-reach for the archway, and looked back up him, blinking.  
Moments passed but Draco said nothing. He just frowned and looked at the floor. Harry pressed on.  
“What are you doing back at Hogwarts? What good is it coming back here if you're going to be locked up in Azkaban before you can sit your exams?” Malfoy’s jaw tightened, and Harry's heart sped up. He could see that had struck a nerve, and waited for Malfoy to retaliate, to bite back. Go on. Harry's conscience egged him on. Fight back.  
“I came back to finish what I started, Potter.” Draco spoke quietly. “My education.”  
Malfoy's eyes connected with Harry’s. Harry wasn’t satisfied with that answer.  
“What's the point? You're wasting your time coming back here, you’ll be behind bars before the NEWT’s even start.” Silence. Harry continued, louder, frustrated.  
“You should've stayed home, kept Narcissa company, seeing as your good for nothing Father isn't there to-”  
“Enough, Potter.” Malfoy cut over him, looking up at him through strands of white hair. There was an edge to his voice. Harry stared at him, confusion creasing his brow.  
“I did not come back to Hogwarts to fight with you. I'm tired of fighting. I’m here awaiting my fate Potter. Sorry if that bothers you but I had no choice.” Malfoy didn't look at Harry as he said this, just stared at the floor. Harry was silenced, and couldn't do anything except stare at the head of the blond that stood across from him. He tried to say something, but nothing came out. Was this really all Malfoy was? No secrets, no motives, nothing? Just apathy, waiting, hopelessly?  
Malfoy turned back to the staircase and ascended the shadowy spiral until he was out of sight entirely. Harry waited until he heard a latch close on the landing before he too reluctantly ascended the staircase. He reached his door, and barged in, closing the door behind him and collapsed onto his back on his four poster, arms slung above his head. A deeply unsettling feeling growled in his stomach. That wasn't the Malfoy he knew anymore. This new Malfoy was uncertain, closed off. Harry didn't like it at all. Harry lifted his hands to his face, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to repress the image of the blonde pounding in his head.  
Harry thought back to him trying to sneak a wand into Hogwarts. There must be something more to that right? Why would he do something like that? He must be up to something, he must have something he was meaning to do.  
But the truth hit Harry with resounding disappointment. Malfoy wasn't up to anything at all. He was telling the truth. He was just waiting for his trial. There was nothing more to it.  
The sun had set and Harry’s room was dark, so he decided to take a nice long shower, and forget about everything entirely. There was no point. He may as well focus on his studying, try to forget about Malfoy and keep his promise to McGonagall. “Like a good little Gryffindor.” Sirius’s mocking voice chimed in the back of his mind, but he shook his head and pushed the thought aside. Being reckless wasn’t necessary anymore. There were no more secrets. He had won. There was nothing left to defeat. Now all he had to do was live alongside those he had defeated.


	2. Chapter 2

The days went by quickly. The lessons flew by uneventfully, and Harry tried his very best to concentrate on taking it all in. He shared all of them with Ginny, so made the most of her help, as Hermione wasn’t around to copy from or explain things to him. Ginny, luckily, was also very clever, and they helped each other with classwork. He missed Ron desperately, and Hogwarts really wasn’t the same without him, but Harry just tried to remember how happy Ron was being part of the Auror's, and that made him feel a little better.

Harry received an owl at breakfast one morning in November. It dropped a letter onto his toast, and Harry sleepily picked up the grease-stained letter and turned it over. His heart skipped with joy when he recognised the untidy scrawl of Ron's handwriting. Harry tore the letter open, unfolded the parchment and began reading eagerly, hearing Ron’s voice through his choice of words and expressive handwriting.

“Hello Mate!  
How have you been? Hope Hogwarts isn't too boring without me. That’s why I’m writing to you actually. It's about Hogwarts, Hagrid sent me an owl not too long ago asking how I was, and he said something funny was going on with the Lake, Mer-people gone missing or something, and the Giant Squid carked it? I was gutted about that, remember when Seamus fell in and the Squid rescued him? Anyway, I thought that was a good enough excuse to come and visit! I know it's probably nothing that Hagrid can’t handle himself, but I’ve convinced Shacklebolt to let me go just in case it's caused by something dark leftover from the Battle. I’m coming this Saturday at 1, Flooing into Hogsmeade, fancy coming to meet me at the Hog’s Head?  
See you soon Harry,  
Ron.”

Harry swelled with excitement, and looked across the table at Ginny, who was eyeing the parchment curiously, chewing own a mouthful of breakfast.  
“Ron’s coming to visit!” Harry announced. Ginny frowned and swallowed her mouthful.  
“Didn’t bloody send me a letter though, charming! When is he coming? How did he manage to get permission?”  
“Saturday. Hagrid told him there’s something up with the Lake, might be worth looking into.”  
“That’s a bit of a stretch, don’t you think?” Ginny raised an eyebrow and Harry smirked.  
“Of course it is.” Harry grinned.  
“He misses you.” Ginny muttered, gesturing lazily at the letter in Harry’s hand. Harry just smirked, and carried on eating his breakfast, the exciting prospect of seeing his best friend again in two days giving him the motivation to get through the rest of the week.

***

Harry pulled his knitted scarf up over his chin and nuzzled his face into it. It was bloody freezing for November. Hogsmeade was topped with a thin layer of white frost, which even by lunch time, was still present over every surface. It was beautiful, Harry admitted, but the only redeeming factor of the biting cold he was currently enduring. He raised his arm, shaking his sleeve back to reveal the face of his gold watch. The hands read 1.15pm. Late. Harry rolled his eyes and re-enveloped his cold hand back into his sleeve by shaking the cuff over his wrist and crossing his arms tightly. Of course Ron was late. Harry stood waiting outside the Hogs Head, watching as the many witches, wizards and Hogwarts students bustled up and down the street. Eventually he heard a CRACK in the distance, and glanced up the street, seeing his best friend emerge from behind a group of students.  
“Harry!” Ron jogged the remaining distance between them and slammed into Harry, tipping him off balance in a crushing hug. Harry wobbled on his feet and laughed, a plume of cloudy breath rising above them. Ron pushed Harry out of the hug and looked at him grinning. “Missed you, Mate.”

They climbed the steep path back up to the castle side by side, while Ron filled Harry in on everything he’d been up to since Harry’ d left for Hogwarts 2 months ago. Harry listened as Ron explained enthusiastically about tracking down Death Eaters, undoing curses and confiscating dark objects from questionable wizards. Harry was seriously impressed. Ron sounded like he’d really come along, he’d obviously learned so much from the other Auror's and Shacklebolt - He was on almost every single raid they’d been on, and even taken down a couple of Death Eaters himself.  
They finally reached the Hogwarts grounds, Harry a little out of breath and a lot warmer from the exercise. They crossed the lawn and walked along the edge of the Forbidden Forest until they saw the Lake and Hagrid’s Hut come into view. Harry had felt a little guilty for not having gone to visit Hagrid over the last 2 months, only seeing him in passing at meals and in the corridors- he’d been incredibly busy with studying, so felt much better now that he had a reason to pay him a visit. Hagrid would be really happy to see him, and with the added bonus of Ron too, he knew Hagrid would be thrilled.  
The two of them stepped up to the broad wooden door of Hagrid’s home, and Harry knocked on it loudly, to which several booming barks emitted from inside the hut. Ron and Harry smiled at each other. Heavy footsteps sounded from behind the door, before it swung inwards, revealing a curious looking Hagrid peering down at them. His expression split into an enormous grin of recognition as his eyes flitted between them.  
“Harry! And - Ron, Cripes what’re you doin' back at Hogwarts? Oh, come in come in, get down, Fang, you must both be freezin’! Come in, sit by the fire and ill make yer both a cuppa.”  
They both gratefully accepted the invitation and when he stepped inside, the warmth hit Harry like a engulfing wave. He looked around at the familiar room, and unravelled the scarf from around his neck. He always felt safe in Hagrid’s hut, Only the Weasley’s Burrow could top the cosy homeliness he always felt here.  
He and Ron took oversized seats in front of the fire, and Hagrid handed them giant steaming mugs of tea, just how they both liked them. Harry breathed in the steam, and saw his glasses fog over.  
“So, What brings me the pleasure of this visit? I ‘bin expecting to see you soon Harry, but Ron?” Hagrid sat down with his own mug and sipped at it, looking with raised eyebrows at Ron.  
“Well I got your letter and thought it seemed a bit odd, so thought I’d swing by and ask you more about what's happening. Honestly though, its been so busy at work it was nice to just have an excuse to come here and relax for a day.” Ron admitted, and smiled guiltily. Hagrid laughed heartily.  
“Well, maybe I could use your ‘elp. I’m flummoxed, really, I got no clue what’s causin’ the disappearances. At first I thought it migh’ be the grindylows, autumn is matin’ season like, so they do act up a bit, but they've not hurt the mer-people before. So then I thought it might be something to do with these new creatures I was introducin’…” Hagrid explained to them all his theories, but as Hagrid's explanations got vaguer and vaguer, Harry started to think Hagrid really didn’t have a clue. He strongly doubted things like “Separation withdrawal from the Giant Squid” was causing mermaids to go missing. Harry looked at Ron, and he raised an eyebrow in response. “All I know is, once the Giant Squid died, the mermaids started disappearin’. That’s the only thing I know for sure.”  
“Hmm… well, there is a possibility dark magic might be involved, if you’ve got no idea. Shall we go take a look at the Lake?”

The three of them stood in a line, facing the still lake at its shore. There was a cold breeze, making the edge of the water lap at the pebbles and dirt that bordered the body of water, but the surface remained still like glass. Harry stared out into the vastness and felt a bit stupid. How were they going to find out if there was any dark magic in the lake? He glanced over his shoulder at Ron, who was rummaging in his coat pockets, eventually pulling out his wand, and a small object Harry didn’t recognise. Ron noticed Harry’s intrigue and held it up for him to see clearly. It looked a bit like a snitch, but it was silver, and had a flatter body and dragonfly-like wings.  
“This is a dark detector. Pretty standard bit of Auror kit. you tell it to fly off and it does a little survey of the area. See its wings there? They pick up on traces of dark magic. Helps us find objects that have a strong magical aura.” Ron whispered something unintelligible, and tapped the little object with his wand and it sprung into the air, wings vibrating madly. Ron gestured his wand forward, pointing over the lake, and off it went. It was fast, almost the speed of the snitch, and just as agile. It flew across the surface of the lake, suddenly stopping every now and again and darting over a patch of lake, to then race off in another direction. Harry kept his eyes on it for as long as he could, the object familiar yet different, and he imagined himself flying over the lake on his broomstick, chasing it as it zoomed inches above the rippling water. After a few minutes, the dark detector returned, and Ron caught it as it flew rapidly back towards him.  
“Ouch! Not so fast, bloody hell.” Ron said, passing the detector into his other hand and shaking out his catching hand in pain. He held up the object in front of him, and it made a series of strange buzzing and clicking noises, which Ron listened to intently. Harry watched this interaction felling rather envious. Ron had learned so many things Harry had no clue about. It was impressive, but Harry couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out. A few moments later, Ron pocketed the thing and looked up apologetically at Hagrid.  
“Nothing. Mind you, it would be a hell of a lot more effective if it could actually go into the water… something I can give feedback to HQ to start developing.” Ron said. Hagrid looked back out onto the lake.  
“Well its probably a good thing its not dark magic. But it’s not helped us get any closer to an answer. Thanks for tryin’ though Ron, I really do appreciate you comin’ ‘ere.” Hagrid patted Ron with a large hand on the shoulder, making Ron’s knees buckle under the weight of it. He grinned up at Hagrid.  
“C’mon then, its bloody freezin’. Let’s go back inside, you can tell me all about your dark wizard catchin’ Ron, and i'll crack out the fire whiskey.”

They spent the afternoon talking, exchanging stories and reminiscing. Eventually it started getting dark, and Ron announced he had to get back to the office to finish up and report back to Kingsley. They said their goodbyes to Hagrid and left the warmth of the Hut, stepping outside into the biting cold and silvery moonlight. Harry insisted on walking Ron to where he could apparate from, and as they walked passed the reflective lake, the scene reminded Harry of the figure he had seen on a similar moonlit night.  
“Ron, I just remembered, I don’t know if its really important but I saw someone a while back go down to the lakeside late at night - I watched them from my bedroom window, I have a view of the lake from up there, and I happened to spot someone - they were sat there for ages, not moving, until it started raining and left.” Harry paused, considering if he should tell Ron about his suspicion that its was Malfoy, but decided against it. He didn’t need telling from a second Weasley that he was probably jumping to conclusions. Ron raised an eyebrow.  
“Huh. Weird. And this was after curfew?”  
“Yep. It was pretty late. I was only awake because…” Harry remembered the nightmare and shivered. “I woke up from a bad dream.” Ron nodded, understanding painting his face.  
“You can see the lake from your window you say?” Ron asked.  
“Yea, pretty much the whole thing. And Hagrid’s.”  
“Do me a favour then Harry, I know it's probably nothing, just a rogue curfew-breaking student probably, but just keep an eye out? Even if it's just for the next few days, and let me know if you see anything suspicious.”  
“Will do.” Harry nodded.  
They both arrived at the boundary where the Hogwarts wards stopped, and apperating could be performed. Harry gave Ron a sad smile, which was returned, and they embraced in a long hug, patting each other's thickly-coated backs.  
“See you soon mate. Keep in touch. I’ll see you at Christmas yea?” Harry stepped back as Ron pulled out his wand.  
“Yea, Christmas.” With a final wave goodbye, Harry watched as Ron turned on the spot, and disappeared from sight with an ear-splitting CRACK. The empty space where he stood was dark, glimmering with moonlight and traces of magic.

Filled with a renewed energy from spending time with Ron and Hagrid, Harry returned to his dorm happily, and checked the clock on his wall. He would keep his word to Ron, and stay up late tonight, just in case the cloak figure returned to the lake. After today's inconclusive detective session however, Harry doubted very much they were connected to the mystery of the lake. Even so, Harry was wide awake, and didn’t really mind spending his evening looking out over the stunning grounds from his warm bedroom.  
Harry proceeded to set up a cosy little cove in front of the window - he transfigured his hard desk chair into a comfy, chintzy one, complete with blankets and extra puffy feather pillows, then went downstairs and made himself a rich, steaming hot chocolate, another plate of custard creams appearing alongside it. He grabbed a book, and then reluctantly some homework from his desk. He may as well try and get some of that done while he was sitting there. Once he had everything set up nicely, he made himself comfortable in his chair, making sure he had the clearest possible view from his position, and looked out over the lake. The wintery weather made the surface look even more glassy, and the occasional ripples hinted at the life that thrived below. The windows of Hagrid's hut were still glowing with lights, the yellow gleam of them stretching along the lawn, before fading into greyish darkness. Harry could see the frost on the grass sparkling sharply, the blades of grass around it resembling glinting needles in the moonlight. Harry looked up and saw that it was once again a full moon, meaning a whole month had passed since he last saw the figure. Speculative, Harry looked at his watch, its glass face glinting in the candlelight that doused Harry’s room in dim, warm light. The contrast between inside of Harry’s room and out there in the cold silver night was palpable. His watch read 9.34pm. It would be another half an hour before his past self had seen the figure previously, so Harry busied himself with some transfiguration homework.  
Harry occasionally looked up from his work to peer out of the window, and scan the scene below him. This process of working, looking, then working again eventually became routine, and Harry got used to the process. At just past 10pm, Harry noticed Hagrid’s lights going out, yellow squares disappearing from the now completely monochrome scene. Harry blinked, and noticed now without the light of Hagrid's hut, he couldn’t see that well; the candlelight from his own room was casting a yellow glare against the window pane, making it impossible to see much out of it. Harry reluctantly extinguished all the candles, the prospect of getting any more homework done extinguishing along with them. Now, the only thing he could do was look out of the window and wait. Harry sighed, slightly regretting agreeing to do this now that he had no other distractions, and put an elbow on the arm of the chair, leaning his head against his hand. He watched for a while, taking in the whole wintery scene, before checking his watch again. Squinting in the low light, and angling it towards the light of the moon, the clock face read 10.27pm. Harry dropped his arm onto the soft blanket covering him, and decided that if there was nothing here by 11.30, 12 at a push, he’d call it a night and go to bed. Feeling a bit better for giving himself a time limit, Harry watched more intently at the scene below him.

The minutes went by painfully slowly, but Harry persevered. He could hear a vague chatter and laughter emitting from the common room below him, but he remained dutifully watching the lake, despite the tempting activity. After a while it died down, and Harry began hearing people returning to rooms and the sounds of farewells and doors opening and closing on the landing. Harry appreciated the new silence which eventually settled in the dorm, and found himself concentrating a bit more on the scene below him. Thankfully, the scenery wasn't completely still for the entire duration of his watch. He’d seen a lone deer emerge from the forest momentarily, grazing on the frosty grass, before slipping back into the shadows of the trees. A little later on he saw a creature, presumably a mer - person, break the surface of the lake, a small dark head poking just above the water, then re-submerge moments later. Harry also witnessed a couple of rabbits hopping around Hagrid's pumpkin patch, scavenging for food in the quiet darkness.  
Harry looked at his watch, which read 11.24pm. Time to go to bed, he thought gratuitously. He’d send a letter to Ron in the morning, confirming both their suspicions that nothing strange-  
A figure, cloaked and unrecognisable, slipped into Harry’s vision, emerging into the window frame from the bottom right corner, evidently having come from the castle. Harry started, and leaned closer to the window, his heart beat quickening. No way. He watched as the figure repeated the journey they had made the last time Harry had seen them, and sat back down on the same boulder as before. Harry looked up into the sky, the clear night showing off the beautiful constellations of the stars up above. Harry looked back down. It wouldn’t rain this time. Maybe he’d get more time to watch the figure and work out what on earth he was doing, or even who it was.  
Harry tried to think back to when everyone was heading to bed not long ago, and mentally kicked himself for not paying more attention to what he had heard happening - who was coming and going. He watched the figure, who again, sat with his back to Harry, staring out at the lake. Harry looked intently. C'mon, do something, he thought. Anything. Cast a spell, get up, turn around. Please. Whoever you are, give me a sign.  
Harry sat and watched, the minutes ticking by. At around the 10 minute mark, Harry was getting frustrated. What on earth was this person up to? Why on earth would they risk getting caught out of bed past curfew just to stare at the lake? It made no sense. And as Harry seethed silently at the figure, it started to move.  
Legs emerged from beneath the cloak, shoes touching the pebbles of the shore under which the boulder sat. The figure shifted, and Harry saw with bemusement as it toed off the shoes, revealing sock clad feet. The figure stood up, and reached for the hood of its cloak. Harry held his breath as the hood pulled back, and revealed a white blonde head, shining in the moonlight.  
Malfoy.  
Harry’s pulse quickened as he watched. He’d been right. Malfoy was up to something. Of course he was. Harry internally shook himself for ever doubting his instincts.  
Malfoy looked from side to side and paused, before undoing his cloak entirely, and letting it fall onto the boulder behind him. He unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall too. Harry frowned, a hot flush of confusion and embarrassment engulfing him. What on earth was Malfoy doing?  
Shoeless, trouser-less and cloak-less, wearing only his white school shirt and underwear which poked out slightly beneath the hem of his shirt, Malfoy stepped towards the lake, pausing at the lapping waves that bordered the vast body of water. A few moments later, Draco started forward and waded into the likely freezing cold water. Harry stood up, concern rising in his chest as he watched Draco go deeper and deeper until only his head and shoulders were visible above the surface of the gleaming lake. What the hell was happening? The water must be utterly freezing, Malfoy was crazy to be going in. Plus he didn’t have a wand, and it was dark, and there was no one around to help him. No one could know what he was doing, except Harry, who watched him in bewilderment.  
Draco pushed his arms forward into a breaststroke and kicked off, swimming into the lake further. He swam gracefully, appearing unconcerned with the freezing temperature, and eventually stopped, treading water about 10 metres from the shore. Harry saw Draco, his hair damp at the base of his neck and the collar of his submerged shirt poking above the surface, turn over, his chest rising above the water, and his pale face staring up to the moon. His eyes fluttered closed, and he floated on the surface, his arms spread like an offering, illuminated by the silvery glow. Harry watched, entranced, staring at the boy in the lake. He saw how the muscles of Malfoy’s chest were exposed through the wet shirt stuck against it, and his angular face highlighted by the glittering rays of moonlight. Harry slowly took his seat again, eyes transfixed on the floating boy below him. Harry felt a concerned confusion rush through him as he watched Malfoy. For one, it was incredibly cold, it couldn’t be far from freezing, and second, there was the issue of the lake, and whatever was happening within its depths. Malfoy would have no idea of its dangers. Harrys fist gripped at the armchair, short nails digging into the material, feelings conflicting in his mind. What the hell was Malfoy playing at? Going for a swim in the lake late at night? And with no magic? Did he have a death wish? Harry thought about his odd behaviour over the last few weeks and gulped. He had been so unconcerned, emphatic and just… so alone. Harry hadn’t seen him talking to anyone. Actually, he was pretty sure the only person Malfoy had actually communicated with since returning was himself. And he hadn’t seemed bothered by it. He’d given up.  
Harry's brow creased and he stood up again, unconsciously, pressing his hand against the pane. He needed to go down there, drag him out. He was going to get sick, the stupid git. He needed to go get him, shake some sense into him.  
Harry was about to turn and head right down there himself, before he noticed Malfoy flip over, chest twisting to reveal his angular back, and saw him swim towards the shore. Harry breathed out, relieved, and watched Malfoy swim, his shoulder blades flexing under his wet shirt as his arms moved in a breast stroke. Eventually, now within his depth, Malfoy straightened up and waded, his body then pale legs emerging as he stepped free from the wet grip of the black lake. His soaked shirt clung to his body as he walked back to the boulder, at which he paused, spread his hands on the flat rock surface and hung his head. He stayed like that for a while, hunched over as if in pain, tiny wisps of cloudy breath rising from beneath his damp hair. Harry stood leaning on the glass, his own breath condensing in a fog against the pane.  
Eventually Malfoy straightened, snatching his cloak, trousers and shoes up, and strode back towards the castle. Harry watched his progress, shifting to see him for as long as possible before he disappeared from view, leaving Harry staring at the place he vanished from. Harry closed his eyes and rolled his back onto the wall beside the window, and groaned, letting his head drop against the brick wall behind him. This wasn’t good. Whatever he was doing, Harry knew it was definitely not something he could just forget about. He wasn't doing anything suspicious per say, Malfoy wasn't hurting anyone by going into the freezing lake late at night. And seeing as he got out, Harry supposed he wasn’t trying to intentionally hurt himself… was he? The idea of Malfoy intentionally putting himself in harm's way didn't sit well with Harry. The Malfoy he knew was cowardly, always putting himself first, never risking his own neck. But this was a different Malfoy. This Malfoy didn't care about anything, maybe not even his own life anymore.  
Harry decided not to wait up to hear when Malfoy returned. If it was anything like last time he'd be waiting a while. It was probably quite a task getting back into Hogwarts unnoticed without any magic, which is probably why the return journey was so lengthy, Harry thought. The issue of what to tell Ron churned in his brain as he undressed, preparing for bed. He caught a glimpse of himself in the wardrobe mirror as he pulled on his flannel pyjama bottoms. He looked at his bare shoulders, and how they flexed with more muscle than Malfoy’s had done when Harry had seen him emerge from the lake. Harry thought about how both of them had changed so much from the scrawny, immature boys they’d once been, how they were now fully grown adults, with a hell of a lot more history than Harry had anticipated they’d have at this age.  
Harry slid into his comfy bed, and decided he wasn't going to tell Ron about Draco's evening swim in the Great Lake. After all, Ron had said to report back to him if he saw anything suspicious. What Harry had witnessed, he concluded, as he turned out the lights and curled up in bed, wasn't anything suspicious at all. The only thing he’d seen was a broken boy, trying to find some sort of feeling in a sea of numbness he’d sunken into.


	3. Chapter 3

November slid into December, the last leaves on the trees had vanished and were replaced with icy fingers of frozen water stretching towards the ground. The Lake, as Harry had been observing, was starting to freeze over in places, making Harry even more concerned about Malfoy, who he’d watched go down to the Lake nearly every night since his first observation. Harry had made a habit of staying up late to watch the now routine ritual. Malfoy would emerge, cloak clad, and sit on the boulder for a little while, before undressing and entering the Lake, where he’d float in the black water for as long as he could evidently stand it, then emerge, utterly drenched and miserable, and head back into the castle. A few times, Harry had even heard him return to the dormitory - quiet footsteps outside his door, a pause, a door swinging closed. Harry watched this process most nights, sitting in his cosy spot in front of the window, often with a steaming hot chocolate. He felt it was his duty to keep an eye on Malfoy, just in case. Harry watched from his dark corner as Malfoy swam in and out, watched the other boys muscles move under his shirt. A few times he even removed his shirt along with his other clothes, eliciting a strange twist of something deep within Harry, which he’d determined was just an extra jolt of concern for the boy. He watched the ripples he created as he floated aimlessly in the dark water, the peaks of the ripples glimmering, rolling away from his form in the dark. Harry’s eyes ran over Draco’s body, seeing him, day in day out, more than he’d ever seen Draco before. He was vulnerable, putting himself in danger, exposing himself. At first Harry felt a bit intrusive watching him, he was obviously having a hard time and must think he was alone when venturing into the Lake, but he wasn’t. Harry’s eyes were locked on him, every time, watching all of it. Harry’s feelings of intrusiveness wore off after a few days, and he eventually accepted it, he was looking after Malfoy, after all. It almost became comforting. Malfoy during lessons was so closed off. Harry had given up trying to interact with him or get any reaction out of him, now just watching him out of the corner of his eye during class. He’d watch Malfoy’s elegant hands move over his parchment, his hair fall into his face, eyelashes blink as he followed his ink across the page. Harry tried his best not to be obvious about watching him in class, but sometimes he couldn’t help it. Especially when the thought of going back to his dormitory later on and watching Malfoy swim in the Lake clouded most of his thoughts. Harry had tried to figure out why it had become such a comfort, watching this ritual every night. Perhaps it was knowing that he was the only one seeing him, protecting him, that gave him a sense of importance. After all, Harry did have a ‘bit of a saving people thing’ as Hermione had once blatantly put it. And after the war there was very little left for Harry to defend. Everything was perfect. Everything, except Malfoy.

***

He was sitting in the Library, the winter sun streaming through the glass windows into the great room of towering bookshelves. Harry held his quill between his fingers, and tilted his head to the side, thinking about what to write next. He lifted his gaze, searching for a distraction in the room from the monotonous task, when his eyes found him. Draco was sat on a desk three rows away, his left side facing Harry, a ray of sunlight illuminating him from behind, casting a shadow that stretched towards Harry. Harry blinked, and watched Draco, who was hunched over some papers, right hand twirling a black feathered quill, his left in a fist on his bent knee. Draco’s eyes darted over his paper, his eyebrows occasionally creasing. The light haloed Draco’s blonde hair, which had grown longer, starting to fall into his face. He blinked, a strand falling into his vision, before he reached up and tucked it unconsciously behind his ear, revealing to Harry his striking cheekbones and angled jaw. Harry swallowed. Draco sat like that for a minute, before tilting his quill towards his lips, and brushing the feather across the bottom one thoughtfully. Harry shifted in his seat a little, suddenly warm. Draco's head tilted, and Harry saw his eyes flicker up, black pupils locking with his own.  
“Harry?”  
Startled, he whipped his head towards the voice, which was emitting from a confused looking Neville, standing beside him. Harry ran his hand through his hair and blinked up at the other boy. Neville looked at Harry, then his eyes darted over to Malfoy, then back again. Harry cleared his throat.  
“Neville, hey, everything good?” Harry asked, forcing a smile at him. Neville reached for the seat next to Harry and sat down in it. Harry kept his eyes on Neville, urging himself to focus on him, rather than the image of Malfoy and the quill now scorched into his mind. Harry straightened up, willing his body temperature to return to normal.  
“Yea all good Harry. I was just wondering, I think I need some advice…” Harry was only half listening as Neville explained his problem. His mind was too preoccupied with what had just happened. Malfoy had looked at him. Made eye contact with him. That hadn’t happened for weeks. Harry followed the line of Draco’s jaw in his memory, the way he’d tucked the hair behind his ear…  
“...you think I should?” Neville finished, looking eagerly into Harry’s face. Harry found himself brushing his quill against his bottom lip, eyes unfocused, before looking up at Neville, humming in false thoughtfulness, and dropping his quill hastily.  
“I think you should just do what you think is right, Neville. Stick to your instincts. There’s a reason McGonagall made you Head Boy, she trusts those instincts to make the right decision.” Harry nodded encouragingly, and felt at ease when the corner of Neville’s mouth curled into a smile and he nodded too.  
“Yea, I guess you’re right. Thanks mate. Neville reached out a hand and patted Harry comradely on the arm. Harry couldn’t help himself, he glanced back over to Malfoy’s desk, and saw, with a touch of relief, Malfoy getting up to leave. After watching Malfoy disappear behind a bookshelf, Harry heard Neville sigh. He looked back around at him, his temperature finally returning to normal. Neville was looking at the place where Malfoy had just been.  
“Poor bloke. Have you heard about his Dad? Azkaban for life. Not that I feel sorry for him, he deserves everything he’s got for what he did. But Malfoy, I dunno. Sometimes I just feel like he got caught up in the whole Death Eater business. His dad being who he was, you know, didn’t seem like he had much of a choice.”  
Harry felt himself about to disagree with Neville, but stopped, considering his words. This wasn't the first time he'd heard someone defend Malfoy, and Harry had started to feel more sympathetic towards the boy, to his own utter surprise.  
“All this business with trying to sneak a wand in too, that’s been blown way out of proportion. Gosh, I’d know I’d try and get one if I couldn’t have mine, imagine being here without a wand!” Neville gestured at the room with an incredulous look.  
“I have it.” Harry said.  
Neville stared at him.  
“What?”  
“Malfoy’s wand. I have it. I completely forgot until McGonagall reminded me at the beginning of term. I won it from him during the war.” Harry frowned as he spoke. Harry felt angry with himself for not thinking about the implications that could have had on Malfoy.  
“Oh.” Neville frowned.  
“What do you think I should do? I don’t want Malfoy to have it, but I feel bad keeping it if they’ve suspected him of concealing it when he hasn’t. But on the other hand, if I gave it to the Ministry…”  
“If I was you Harry I’d stay out of all this. You won it, you say? It works for you?”  
“Yeah. It’s a pretty good fit actually. Saved my life during the War.” Hermione's words echoed in his head. “Maybe you should do something about it.” Something clicked in Harry’s brain. She hadn’t meant for him to snitch on the Malfoy’s. She’d meant the exact opposite. Technically the Malfoy’s had saved him 3 times, she meant for him to defend them.  
“Then I’d say its yours. If the Ministry can’t prove he’s hidden it I wouldn’t feel guilty about not handing it in. The law is a bit messed up when it comes to wands so I doubt they’ll take it much further. Seriously Harry, I wouldn’t tell them anything.”  
Harry considered Neville’s words. He was right, getting involved with the Ministry would cause a lot of unwanted attention from the public, and as Neville had pointed out, the wand was now technically his if he’d won it from Malfoy. The Ministry couldn’t argue with that. He wasn’t withholding evidence if it was his wand now, right? Also Harry thought about Ron, who knew about this wand situation, but evidently hadn’t told his higher-ups about its true whereabouts, so Harry felt a little more at ease knowing Ron didn’t think it was necessary for Harry to be outed as the true owner, either.  
Harry thanked Neville, and squeezed his shoulder as he got up from his spot in the library, feeling a little guilty that he hadn't listened to Neville's' problem more carefully, now that Neville had helped him with his own issue.  
“You know you can ask me for anything, anytime Neville. I mean that. You’re a great friend.” Neville smiled warmly up at Harry.  
“Same goes for you pal. Any time. Oh! By the way, Merry Christmas Harry. I guess you’ll be heading home this weekend too.” Harry paused and looked at his watch, the two inner circles revealing the date to be 20/12. Crikey. It was the Christmas Holidays soon and Harry hadn’t even realised. He’d been so busy with NEWT preparation, homework, and...  
“Oh right yea, Merry Christmas. yea I suppose I will be heading home then, can’t believe its come round so fast.”  
“Hah, me neither, been running round this place like a lunatic, didn't even notice the days were also running past me. Well, have a good one Harry.”  
“You too Nev.”

***

The orange evening glow shone in through Harry's window, illuminating his trunk which was open at the foot of his bed. Harry was working his way around the room, picking things up, considering them, then either putting them back down or tossing them into his trunk. He came over to his desk, now completely buried under mounds of papers, and got to organising it. Piles for things to keep, stuff to throw away, and stuff to take back home. He came across a letter, turning it over to scan the handwriting. It was Hermione’s. Harry went to toss it into his trunk, but hesitated, and instead pulled the letter out of its torn envelope, and unfolded it. It was nice seeing Hermione’s handwriting. His eyes scanned the parchment and came to rest on Malfoy’s name, neatly written and capitalised. Hermione had implied he should consider defending him and his mother, as they’d both saved his life. Not so long ago Harry had thought this was absurd. But now, having seen Malfoy in the flesh, seeing how defeated he was, hearing Neville’s opinion, maybe it wasn't such a bad idea after all.  
Harry pushed the letter back into the envelope and tossed it into the trunk. His eyes wandered over the messy contents, illuminated by the orange light, and then followed it through the window, looking out at the glorious view of the cold winter evening outside. The lake shimmered golden, the frozen patches mirroring the warm light back into the sky, and a question dawned over him. Malfoy. Where would he go during Christmas? Would he remain here? Harry turned back towards his desk, fumbling with the papers on the surface to find the most recent copy of the Prophet, which he picked up and rifled through, eyes skimming its pages to find the name “Malfoy” anywhere in its articles. After flicking through the whole thing and finding no mention of the family, Harry frowned and rubbed his eyes. What if Malfoy was staying at Hogwarts? What if he went into the lake while Harry wasn’t here and something happened to him? He should tell someone what he’d seen. But then… if he did that, Malfoy would be in all sorts of trouble. He didn’t want to destroy whatever solace Malfoy had from going down to the lake at night, however bizarre Harry thought it was. Harry's brain whirred, before he came to a conclusion. He’d stay here, at Hogwarts just for one night extra, just in case. If he saw Malfoy going down to the lake again, he'd have to tell someone. If he didn’t go down then he must have gone home, or somewhere else for Christmas at least.  
Feeling a little more satisfied, Harry finished packing, but left out one more day's worth of clothes and essentials. He’d owl Ron, telling him he would be arriving on Saturday instead, Mrs Weasley surely wouldn’t mind. And tonight he would watch the lake once more, dutifully, to make sure Malfoy was safe.

***

Harry checked his watch, the moonlight glinting off its crystal face. 11.36. Harry peered at the numbers, then looked back out at the dark lake. He’d been sitting in his usual spot for the best part of an hour now, waiting for Malfoy to appear as usual beneath him. He had been down to the common room earlier as many of the 8th years were leaving, biding them goodbye and muttering well wishes for the Holidays. Harry had maintained a happy expression, trying not to seem obvious that he himself did not intend on leaving that evening. When asked, he said he was going to apperate home, as he had arrived at Hogwarts in that way. Nobody questioned this, to which Harry was grateful. After the common room had emptied, Harry went back up to his room, the absence of Malfoy during the commotion of everyone leaving indicating to Harry the blonde was remaining here, perhaps cooped up in his room, alone.  
The lack of any sign of Malfoy going for his usual trip to the lake disconcerted Harry. What reason would Malfoy have to interrupt his routine? Especially now as the majority of the inhabitants of Hogwarts had left, and sneaking out would be much easier than usual? Harry watched, and thought, a frown creasing his eyebrows. Maybe Malfoy had left earlier in the day, having been escorted by Auror's, perhaps. Harry guessed it wouldn’t be too outrageous to assume they didn’t want Malfoy getting the Hogwarts Express back with all the other students. Now that Harry thought about it, that could be the only explanation, and actually made a lot of sense. He’d come here under Auror supervision, of course they’d take him away in the same manner. Harry sighed, annoyed at himself for staying under the false hope of seeing Malfoy again. Not hope, he corrected himself. He was just looking out for him. Nothing more. Harry couldn’t help feeling slightly disappointed as he got up from his seat, and stretched, his muscles burning pleasantly as he moved, de-stiffening as he removed himself from his watch-out. He paced over to his bed in the darkened room, tired clouds blossoming in his brain and making his mind hazy. Draco’s pale body swam through his thoughts as he pulled open his duvet and slid into the cool bed, his naked torso sinking into the soft furnishings. His eyes fluttered shut as he imagined Draco’s ever lengthening hair falling over his eyes, which looked up at Harry through dark lashes, and something in Harry fluttered oddly. He didn't have time to question it however, because a thick wave of sleep crashed over him, and he was unconscious within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

A pained yell and a crash made Harry jolt awake, his chest heaving in half conscious fear. He fumbled next to him, grabbing his spindly glasses and shoving them roughly onto his face, trapping a few strands of hair between his face and the lenses. He rubbed his face and listened. He hadn't been having a nightmare had he? Harry searched his foggy memory of the dream, coming across only calm snippets of water and moonlight.  
Another muffled moan of pain made Harry straighten, the sheets falling limply off his torso, realising the sound was emitting from behind his own bedroom door. Harry's heart thumped unpleasantly, and he was suddenly terrified. He was the only one left here, what the hell was going on? Had someone snuck into Hogwarts, having found out he was alone here, to try and hurt him? Harry clambered out of bed grabbing his wand from the nightstand, and stood defensively in front of the door, wand outstretched. His hand shook slightly, and he tried to calm himself, thinking that whoever it was must not have known about the protective wards on the rooms, so was probably pretty defenceless right now. Harry took a deep breath in, and wordlessly lit the tip of his wand, illuminating his door in pale white light, and stepped forward, gripping the door handle, and with a rush of adrenaline, pulled it open.  
A crumpled figure knelt before him, head bent, obscured by a hooded cloak, with one slim arm clutching the other in what looked like an agonised embrace. As Harry's wand light illuminated the figure its head slowly raised up to make grievous eye contact with Harry. Harry blanched.  
Draco Malfoy was kneeling before him, looking utterly uncomfortable. He was breathing heavily, and his face was twisted in a pained frown, an expression of cureless mire. The silence between them hung dreadfully for what seemed like minutes. Harry couldn’t quite comprehend this predicament. He was under the impression Malfoy had left the castle under Auror supervision, but as he looked down at the boy, confusion clouding his only half awake brain, he supposed he had just assumed this, he hadn't actually seen Malfoy leave the castle at all. Harry’s eyes washed over the other boy, taking in the ruffled white hair, the hollow cheekbones, and Malfoys thighs, that were spread on the ground defencelessly. Harry's abdomen tightened seeing Malfoy look so vulnerable, something he'd noticed himself feeling while watching Malfoy in the lake. He looked over Malfoy’s white face, his lips were pressed tightly closed in a firm line. Harry fingered his wand in his hand and decided to break the silence.  
“Why are you trying to get into my room, Malfoy.” Harry said, quietly, trying not to sound too confrontational. He was angry with Malfoy of course, but looking at his pained expression did something inside of him he couldn’t explain. The whole time they’d been back at school Harry had wanted to get a reaction from him, but maybe this was his chance. A chance to understand what on earth was happening with this boy to make him act so strangely.  
Harry waited for a response, but Malfoy just blinked up at him, his eyes flicked quickly from Harry's eyes down to his bare chest, Harry feeling suddenly self conscious at his lack of clothing, and then back up to Harry's face, lingering wordlessly on his eyes before his mouth twisted in a grimace, and he looked down at the arm he was clutching. His left hand was clenched in a fist, shaking slightly. Harry lowered his wand to see it better. Slowly Malfoy uncurled his fingers, revealing an orange glow, which when Malfoy fully opened his hand, read ‘H.P’. Harry, having seen this effect before at the beginning of the year on Seamus when he'd tried getting into Dean's room, was unsurprised. Looking at Malfoy however, his expression of pain transformed into one of mild confusion, then irritation. Harry decided to remedy his lack of understanding.  
“McGonagall put hex wards on all the bedroom doors. Seamus found out the hard way on our first day before you arrived.” Harry felt slightly guilty no one, including himself, had thought to mention this to Malfoy. The fact Malfoy had not even overheard this piece of information just proved to Harry how isolated Malfoy had been this term. He’d been so vacant, and Harry wanted to know why.  
“I have some dittany in my trunk, that sorted out Seamus last time. Well, it didn't get rid of it straight away, but it stopped the orange glow at least.” Harry paused for a second, considering the boy beneath him, wondering if he was about to make a huge mistake.  
Harry turned back into his bedroom and spelled on some of the dim lights. Harry suddenly remembered with a lurch of panic his view of the lake, but as he looked at the window he was relieved to see the light in the room made it pretty much impossible to see outside. Harry, relieved, and thanking himself internally for having tidied his room earlier, strode over to his trunk, rummaging through its haphazardly packed contents until he heard a glass clink, and pulled out a handful of vials. He searched the labels for the one that read, in Hermione’s perfect cursive, ‘Dittany.” He saw in his peripheral Malfoy slowly getting to his feet, and stepping cautiously into the light of Harry's room. He remained silent, and Harry looked up to see Draco eyeing into the room, expression unreadable. Harry felt himself getting slightly warm, the impossible truth of Malfoy, Draco bloody Malfoy, entering his room. What was he thinking? The absurdity of it all made Harry's stomach churn. Harry tried to focus on the task at hand. Malfoy had tried to get into Harry's room. He must have thought he'd gone home for Christmas. What on earth could Malfoy be up to trying to get in here? And now Harry was acting as if nothing had happened. Finding the correct vial, Harry vowed to get the truth out of Malfoy.  
Harry stood, and eyed the other boy, lingering in the doorway. His brain whirred. Malfoy looked unsure, a frown creasing his brows. His eyes were still darting around the room, searching. Searching for what?  
Harry stepped towards the blonde, pocketing his wand and uncorking the dittany with his teeth. Malfoy’s gaze drifted back to Harry, watching his actions, uncertainty painting his face. He watched as Harry stretched out his hand holding the dittany, and held out his other, now wandless hand, gesturing for Malfoy’s injured hand with flicking fingers.  
“Hand.” Potter ordered, softly, as best he could with a cork between his teeth, and looked at Malfoy’s now fisted hand encouragingly. Malfoy looked suspiciously at the vial, and then at Harry, and then at his outstretched hand, before giving in with a soft exhale and reaching towards him, his fist opening to reveal the glowing ‘H.P’ burned into his flesh. Harry reached for his hand, cupping his slender fingers, sliding his palm along the underside of Draco's hand until he reached his slim wrist, wrapping his fingers easily around the circumference of it. Malfoy was colder than he’d expected, but he could feel the pulse of his heartbeat under his fingertips. The intimate contact made Harry’s skin prickle, and he hoped Malfoy couldn't feel how his body temperature had suddenly spiked. He avoided Malfoy’s gaze and concentrated on the wound, trying not to think about how close they were. The closest they’d ever been.  
Harry pulled on Malfoy’s wrist a little and turned it towards the lamplight, while his other hand gently tapped out a few drops of dittany from the vial. He watched as the potion instantly got to work, the magic liquid quickly finding the wound and absorbing itself into Draco's skin. He heard Malfoy hiss quietly under his breath, and his arm tense slightly under Harry's grip. After a couple of seconds the orange glow faded, leaving the wound as just a red scorch on Draco's hand. Harry tilted his head, admiring his handiwork, and raised the vial to the cork between his teeth, depositing the cork in the hole and pushing it in with his thumb.  
“There. That should do it. Seamus reckoned it took about 2 weeks for the scar to fully...”  
Harry trailed off, his sentence abandoned when he looked back up at Malfoy. He was looking at Harry's lips, eyes wandering over them then down Harry’s bare chest to his pyjama bottoms, which Harry realised with a jolt were hanging very loosely on his hips. “Uh..” Harry breathed, stupidly.  
Malfoy blinked and looked up at him, jaw tightening, evidently restless of this weird interaction, and quickly pulled his wrist from Harry's grip, clutching it to his chest defensively, looking away from Harry. Harry waited, but Malfoy said nothing. He sighed and turned back into his room, rolling his eyes when he knew he was out of Malfoy’s line of sight.  
“A thank you would’ve been nice.” Harry murmured.  
“Potter.” Harry paused at hearing his name escape Malfoy’s lips, and turned to face him. He’d stepped into the room, just slightly, one foot inside the threshold.  
“You have something of mine.” Draco took another step, fully entering Harry's dimly lit room, casting a shadow behind him into the hall.  
“Sorry?” Harry felt a trickle of doubt creep up through him. He fingered the tip of his wand poking out of his pocket. Malfoy wouldn’t dare attack him, would he?  
“My wand, Potter. I know you have it.” Draco said this in such a quiet, low voice, it was almost a whisper. Harry looked over him. He was cloaked, but Harry couldn't tell if he was armed, he’d not seen beneath his cloak when Malfoy was knelt on the floor. But if he'd wanted to get into Harry’s room so badly, he could’ve attacked him at any point while Harry was busy healing his hand. Harry was still unsure, and now Malfoy’s hands had disappeared beneath his black cloak.  
“I don’t.” Harry tried to argue.  
“You do. I heard you telling Longbottom about it in the Library the other day.” Harry’s mind flashed back to that memory of seeing Draco in the library, the feathered quill brushing along his pink lip, their momentary eye contact, and Malfoy getting up to leave, then telling Neville about the wand. Harry cursed himself for not being more careful, for not checking for any prying eyes or ears. He tightened his grip on his own wand, still concealed in his pocket, his body only half facing Malfoy in the doorway. Harry's chest heaved with a deep breath, and he saw Draco’s eyes flicker over it momentarily before returning his gaze to his eyes.  
“I won it from you, fair and square. It answers to me now, It’s mine.” Harry insisted, trying to sound authoritative. That’s what Neville had said after all, it was his now. Malfoy ran his tongue across his lips.  
“I need it.” He said, a little louder. His chin was raised, and he looked at Harry with a meaningful glare. Harry's pulse quickened a little. This was the most fight he'd seen from Malfoy all year. If only he could make it last longer, get the real Malfoy to emerge through this strange veiled version of himself.  
“And why on earth would I give it to you? What do you need it for?” Harry said, shifting his weight onto his back foot, both hands now deep in his pyjama bottoms, the waistband slipping a little further down his hips. He could see Draco eyeing them, and a pleased little twist erupted within him, knowing he was starting to irritate the other boy.  
“None of your bloody business, Potter. Just, look. It’s important. I’m not planning on doing anything evil or god knows what your heroic brain has decided I’m capable of. I just want it back. Don’t you understand that?” Malfoy said, the irritated inflection staining his once calm demeanour. Harry raised an eyebrow.  
“You’re not allowed a wand, You’re under ministry supervision. I would be breaking the law if I gave it back to you, and I, being the hero I am, don’t want to ruin my reputation.” Harry knew he was laying it on a bit thick, but he couldn't help it. Seeing Draco riled up did something to him, made him feel things he hadn't felt for ages. Draco released an impatient breath from his nose. Harry spoke again.  
“Also, do you think I’d be dumb enough to leave it at Hogwarts over the Holidays?” Harry said, knowing full well the wand wasn't here at all. His statement made Malfoy's eyes dart around the room once more. But then his gaze settled on Harry's broad, imposing figure, considered him for a moment, and then frowned.  
Harry loosened his grip around his wand. Seeing Draco like this made some part of his annoying brain a bit slow. Was he actually feeling sorry for Draco Malfoy? He sighed, and took a step towards Malfoy, taking his hands out of his pockets, and rubbed his eyes.  
“Malfoy, look. If you just told me what’s going on, maybe I could help-” Suddenly all the wind was knocked out of his lungs and he was launched backwards, until his calves hit the bed frame painfully and his back slammed down onto his sheets. A sudden intrusion of a cold sharp point was against his throat and a very heavy weight was on his hips, trapping him. Harry blinked through watering eyes to see Malfoy straddling him, pinning Harry's arms painfully down at his sides with his knees. Malfoy’s face was hovering inches over his, his hard fast breaths warm against Harry's cheek.  
“Give. Me. My. Wand. Potter.” Draco said in a growl between heavy breaths. The sharp point dug deeper into the soft curve of Harry's neck, making him stretch his head back and push his face into the sheets. Harry cursed himself for letting his guard down. What the hell had he been thinking? The point of Draco’s dagger was starting to sting significantly, and he felt sharp nails digging into the skin of his chest from Draco's other hand.  
“I don’t have it.” Harry strained to speak.  
“Yes you do!”  
“I don’t! I mean, I do, but not here- It’s not here.” Harry said, desperately. Malfoy froze, a flash of panic in his eyes.  
“Where is it? Tell me!” Malfoy hissed, leaning even closer to Harry's face, and Harry knew this was his chance. With a quick snap of his head, Harry’s skull collided painfully with Malfoy’s, making the other cry out and lean back, the pressure of the dagger suddenly vanishing. Harry lifted his arms free and wrapped them around Draco’s waist, swiftly rolling him over so Harry was the one on top. He grabbed Draco’s wrists as they landed and pinned them to the sides of his head on the mattress, thumbs digging into the soft spots, forcing Draco to release his grip on the weapon.  
“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me what you’re doing, Malfoy. I know you’re up to something. You’ve been acting strange all year.” Harry said, looking down through strands of hair at the flushed face beneath him. He ran his eyes over Draco, who’s eyes were wide and lips parted, startled from having been overpowered and pinned down. Moments later however, Draco's expression settled into a sneer. Harry’s stomach jolted at the sight.  
Draco's eyes glided down Harry’s form, taking in his arched torso, down to his flannel pyjama bottoms, legs spread over him, and back up again, settling on Harry's mouth, and a flush of heat engulfed Harry, now overtly aware of the predicament he found himself in, Pinning Draco Malfoy down on his bed. Harry felt a blossom of heat in his stomach. What the hell was wrong with him?  
“Been watching me, have you Potter?” Malfoy said, quietly.  
“I’m warning you Malfoy. Tell me what you’re up to or I swear-”  
“You’ll do what?” Malfoys eyes glinted, dangerously. “Tie me up and keep me here until I confess? I think the Auror's would have a few questions if they found me bound to Harry Potter's four-poster when they came to get me tomorrow morning. Your reputation as a do-no-wrong hero might be slightly tarnished.” Harry's gut dropped at the mental image Malfoy had just created and it clouded his mind, and before he could react, Malfoy had lurched forward, pushed Harry to his side and jumped up, grabbing the dagger in the process, and leapt towards the door. Harry landed on his back, hearing his wand clatter on the floor down the back of the bed frame, out of reach. He lifted himself onto his elbows and watched Malfoy from between his open knees, whose arm was outstretched, dagger pointed at him as he stood in the darkened doorway. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and flicked his hair out of his face.  
“As much as I enjoyed this little play fight Potter, I must now insist you stay the fuck away from me. Unless of course, you decide to do what is right and return to me what’s mine.” Draco's expression settled into a dark, warning look, and he disappeared behind the wall. Harry heard him opening his door and almost immediately heard it slam shut again.  
Harry lay on his bed, bewildered in the silence that engulfed the room. What the fuck had just happened? There was so much he needed to process, so much new information, but his mind was throbbing, a haze hanging over him. All he could think about was how Malfoy had felt underneath him, how his implied words made Harry weak. Harry had the upper hand, he was about to get the truth out of Malfoy, he was so close, and then - the image of Malfoy, wrists tied to the posts of his bed, pounded in Harry's mind, a lump catching in his throat. No. God no. Not Malfoy. He’d just attacked him for gods sake, he'd had him at knife point. Harry flopped down onto his back and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. What the hell was wrong with him? Harry tried to concentrate, to think about what he’d just learned. Malfoy had tried to get his wand back from Harry, and Harry had told him he had it, just not in Hogwarts. Harry knew it was somewhere in Grimmauld Place, and now he’d definitely have to find it, keep it within his possession from now on. It wasn't safe there anymore. Malfoy knew that was his home, and considering his Black family bloodline, Malfoy probably wouldn’t find getting inside the house very difficult if he attempted to break in and steal it. He’d have to go tomorrow to be safe. Malfoy had also let slip that the Auror's were coming to get him in the morning, but did not say where they were taking him. There was no guarantee he'd be under supervision for the whole of the Christmas Holidays however, so getting to Grimmauld Place and finding the wand was even more urgent. He’d go tomorrow morning, as soon as he'd seen Malfoy had been taken away. Mrs Weasley wouldn’t mind if he didn't arrive until a bit later on in the day.  
Malfoy was definitely up to something. His desperate attack on Harry to get his wand back seemed highly indicative of the fact that he was, indeed, up to no good. Harry sat up and looked over to his window and searched the blackness, seeing nothing but an orange reflection of the interior of his room, and his own face. Whatever Malfoy was up to, He was going to find out.

***

The next day Harry woke early, just after dawn, and dressed quickly in the morning sunbeams that filtered in though his bedroom window. Malfoy hadn’t said when the Auror's would be coming to take him away, so he thought it a good idea to rise early, just in case. Grabbing his wand and pulling on his invisibility cloak, he left his room quietly, and made his way down through the chilly castle corridors to the empty entrance hall, where the great wooden doors stood firmly shut. Harry looked around into the Great Hall, and saw at the edge of the Gryffindor house table Professor McGonagall standing alongside two taller cloaked figures, talking inaudibly. Harry watched them for a bit from underneath his invisibility cloak, until he heard the bell tower chime. The three adults gave each other significant looks, and McGonagall strode towards the entrance, making Harry flatten himself against a wall near a suit of armour.  
“He will be here any minute. Thank you gentlemen for your patience.” McGonagall said, looking up and down the empty corridor leading into the great hall, then turning back towards the two large men, who’d followed behind her.  
“Has his behaviour been satisfactory Headmistress?” The taller of the two inquired, a bald, lined wizard, that Harry found slightly terrifying.  
“Unsettlingly so.” McGonagall said, not attempting to hide her concern. Harry was relieved to see that he was not the only one who’d been unnerved by Draco’s initial quietness, but now he’d seen beneath Draco’s façade.  
“Ah. There you are.” Harry followed McGonagall’s gaze up the corridor and saw Malfoy, stony faced and cloaked, pacing quietly towards the four of them. He wasn't carrying any luggage, except for a leather satchel which hung from his shoulder.  
He stopped when he reached the three visible wizards, looking up at the tall bald man, expression blank. However, Harry didn't fail to notice Draco's hand tighten slightly on the strap of his satchel. Harry smirked.  
“Well then, Mr Malfoy. I expect to see you back here in January for the beginning of term. I expect you’ll be returning in the same manner?” McGonagall aimed her last statement at the two Aurors. Malfoy just remained still, eyes now downcast.  
“Indeed, Headmistress.”  
McGonagall nodded, and the Aurors stepped to either side of Draco, the tall bald wizard guiding him towards the exit. Harry looked at McGonagall, her eyes wide watching Malfoy being frog marched out. She let out a small sigh, and turned, walking back into the Great Hall. Harry quietly followed the 3 men out of the front doors, into the courtyard, and lingered under the archway, watching Malfoy and the two men descend down the long path, until they were out of sight. A few moments later, Harry heard a distant CRACK, and saw a flock of blackbirds erupt like spilling ink from a bony tree in the distance. Malfoy had gone. It was time for him to disappear too.

“Can Kreacher fetch master a drink? A nice cup of tea for Mister Potter?” Harry ignored the house elf as he rummaged through the dresser of his bedroom in Grimmauld Place. Where the hell had he put the bloody thing? He’d already torn apart the front room, searched the shelves of the library and gone through every single piece of furniture in his bedroom. It was nowhere to be found. Harry yanked open the last drawer of the dresser, revealing a pair of old shoes, some parchment, and a battered tin sewing kit. Frustrated, he slammed the drawer shut. Why couldn't he have actually tried to organise this place before he’d rushed back to Hogwarts? He’d managed to cancel all the magical spells and wards in the house with help from Ron and a couple of curse breakers, so why couldn't he have found the time to at least try and sort out all his possessions? It wasn't like he owned much. Harry stretched his neck side to side irritably.  
“A drink, Master?” Kreacher croaked, his bulbous eyes looking up at Harry expectantly. Harry looked down at the old house elf and reluctantly nodded, to which the elf vanished, reappearing moments later with a tray piled with custard creams and a large floral teapot, steam seeping from its spout. He lugged the tray onto a side table, and Harry collapsed into a chair in front of it, exhausted. He’d been searching for what felt like hours. He felt a stab of guilt as he realised that he had lost Malfoy’s wand. How could he be so careless? That was a part of Malfoy, a cherished object he’d be given as a child. Harry watched Kreacher pour out a cup of tea for him, hands shaking slightly, and frowned. Kreacher was looking old. His big eyes were yellowed, the beginning of cloudy cataracts starting to appear over his pupils. Another pang of guilt struck Harry for how he'd mistreated Kreacher in the past.  
“Thanks.” Harry said, taking the teacup and blowing on the hot liquid.  
“What is it master is looking for? Perhaps Kreacher can be of assistance.” Kreacher said, blinking up at Harry. Harry strongly doubted this, Kreacher didn't really do much housekeeping in his old age, but Harry decided to indulge him anyway.  
“Um, ok then. A wand, I’m looking for a wand. I brought it back here after… you know. When I moved in.” Harry said.  
“Oh! Master Draco’s wand you mean?”  
Harry sat up. He’d definitely not expected that answer.  
“How do you…”  
“I have it, Sir. Please don’t be angry, I’d found it under the bed you see. I thought you might have forgotten about it. I held on to it because, well, Master Draco is a member of the ancient Black family, and to have something of his so close to Kreacher…” Harry set down his teacup quickly, making a wave of tea spill over the rim onto the table. He was extremely annoyed he’d been looking for hours and Kreacher had it the whole time, but he tried to remain calm.  
“Kreacher, can you fetch it please?” Harry said, expression painfully set in a forced smile. Without another word, Kreacher bowed, and disappeared with a crack, reappearing seconds later with a long black wand clutched between his two small fists. Harry leaned down and took the wand, and held it up in his right hand, examining it in the sunlight from the window. It was shinier than he remembered it. Cleaner. He imagined Kreacher had probably restored and polished the thing.  
Turning back into the room, Harry noticed Kreacher busying himself, fussing with bedsheets and pretending to be hard at work. Harry rolled his eyes.  
“Thanks for taking care of it, Kreacher. I’m really glad you found it.” Harry said, and left the room, quickly getting back downstairs. He entered the front room, and grabbed his rucksack from the leather sofa.  
“I’ll be back in a few days!” Harry called, and went to the fireplace, shoving his hand into a vase, taking a big handful of green powder. He threw it into the fireplace, emerald flames engulfing the dark chasm, and said,  
“The Burrow!” Before stepping into the tingling flames and vanishing in a flash of light.

Christmas at the Burrow was as good as Harry had always known. Warm fires roared through the topsy-turvy house, laughs and chatter constantly echoed through the rooms, and he enjoyed spectacular home cooked food from Mrs Weasley. It was cosy but chaotic all at once, and Harry noted how this combination had always been unique to the Weasley household. Harry spend the days mostly in front of the sitting room fire, stroking Hermione’s cat with one hand (She had left in in the care of the Weasley’s while she was away, much to Ron’s annoyance) and nursing a glass of wine or another festive beverage in the other, trying his best to stay out of Mrs Weasley’s way after unsuccessfully offering his help. Mrs Weasley had looked utterly offended when Harry had mentioned helping, so Harry decided his politeness wasn't appreciated and resigned himself to a comfy spot, somewhat relieved.  
The thought of Malfoy only slightly ruined the festive spirit for Harry. Now that he had the wand safe in his possession, he could relax. There was no way he could get it. The small possibility that his home may be being broken into at any given time still lingered, but Harry tried to ignore the concern that rose in his chest when he thought about it. The memory of Malfoy pinning him down on his bed would occasionally seep into Harry's thoughts too, particularly after a few wines, which Harry didn't appreciate.  
He tried to remain positive. He had the wand. All was well.  
On Christmas morning gifts were exchanged excitedly, and after Harry had opened his usual collection of knitted garments and baked goods, Ron passed him a small box with a red ribbon adorning it. Harry looked up at him quizzically.  
“Just a little thing from us at the Ministry. I reckon its a bribe for you to join the team, but don’t think of it like that.” Ron said. Harry chuckled, slightly disbelieving the fact the Aurors had decided to get him a Christmas present. Harry pulled the end of the ribbon, watched it unravel, then lifted the lid. He reached inside and pulled out the small object, recognition dawning over him.  
“It’s our newest dark detector model. I saw you liked the last one, so thought I’d give you our latest version. This one can go underwater and all!” Ron said while eyeing the object himself. Harry turned it in the morning light, admiring the bug-like design. the body of it looked more sleek, less clunky than the one Ron had used in Hogwarts. This ones’ wings were sleeker too, smoother. Harry also noticed a small red light, like that of a camcorder, emitting from the front of the body, like one large bug eye.  
Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed. He stored the detector safely back in its box and grabbed his glass of port, smiling.  
“To the Ministry.”  
Ron raised his drink.  
“The Ministry.” they clinked their drinks together, the rich red colour of the port swirling around both glasses. Harry leaned back in his chair and watched the rest of the Weasley’s open their gifts. 

***

The Auror's fingers dug deeper into Draco's arm, short nails stinging painfully. He didn’t understand why he’d been squeezing so hard, it's not like he could do anything if he escaped. Draco frowned and tried not to think of the inevitable bruise which was likely blooming over his white skin.  
“We’re here.” The Auror halted and finally released his grip on Draco's arm. Draco rubbed it, and flexed his shoulder while he took in his surroundings.  
They stood in a barren hall, a sort of ante-chamber; old, crumbling concrete boxing them in. In front of him he saw a gate that stretched the length of the room, with a small corridor-like space behind it. the metal bars occasionally curled into strange words Draco couldn't make sense of. A cold feeling trickled down his spine as he saw two more Aurors standing on the other side of the gate. Where were they? Draco had thought he was to be taken back to the Manor for the Christmas holidays. Draco looked around, trying to discern his location from the room. He looked up, and his stomach dropped. a blue glow stretched above them, and behind it, black robed figures floated ominously. Draco swallowed and returned his gaze to the gate. A horrible realisation had sunk through him. He knew where he was.  
A clanging sound emitted from the other side of the gate, and a metal door swung open from the right hand wall. An Auror stepped through, leading a blonde figure behind him, who Draco recognised immediately.  
“Mother!” Draco yelped, a wave of sickness rolling in his stomach.  
He lurched forward, hand outstretched, running towards the gate which his mother was trapped behind, but a sudden blast of electricity made him withdraw his hands with a shout of pain before he could reach the metal, and a shimmer of magic rippled across the space in front of him. Draco’s chest heaved as he stared at his mother through the bars. He had never seen her look this dishevelled. Her hair was down, the usual blonde curls absent. Instead her hair fell matte and dull. Her usually piercing eyes were clouded, and the lines of her face were deep. Malfoy felt a lump rise in his throat and he blinked through the tears that were threatening to spill out. He wanted so badly to reach out to her, hold her in his arms as he had done so many times before and tell her everything was going to be ok. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this. He felt his heart break.  
Narcissa approached the gate and Malfoy saw her look at him. Her eyes were sad, but looked meaningfully into Draco’s.  
“Mother-” Draco said.  
Narcissa stepped closer and wrapped her hands around the bars between them, leaning close.  
“Listen Draco.” She said in a whisper. “They made me a deal. If I come here, you go free. They’ve dropped your charges in exchange for my imprisonment. Shh, don’t argue with me Draco. This is the only way. You’re free, Draco. Are you listening to me?” Narcissa eyes darted desperately between Draco’s but all he could do was stand there with his mouth half open, wordless.  
“But...you…here...” Draco stammered, his voice quavering. The idea was unbearable. She couldn't.  
“I’ll be ok, Draco. Trust me, I promise everything is going to be ok.” She smiled, but the smile didn't make it to her eyes and Draco felt his heart break in his chest.  
“How long?” Draco croaked. Narcissa blinked and her forced smile faltered.  
“Well...with good behaviour and regular counselling there’s a possibility it will be shorter than what they’ve agreed on.” Draco looked at her, seriously.  
“How long.”  
“Draco, it's not certain yet, there are things involved,”  
“Mother.” Draco clenched his jaw. She looked up at him, eyes glimmering.  
“It’s a life sentence, Darling.”  
It was if a trap door had been released under his feet and he was falling through the darkness. His pulse pounded in his ears and his vision swam.  
“You’ve… given up.” Malfoy stammered.  
“My life, for yours.” Narcissa smiled again. A small smile fully of love and hope.  
“Mr Malfoy, times up.” An Auror said from behind Malfoy, and he heard footsteps approaching him.  
“Mother.”  
“Be good, Draco. I love you very much.”  
“No! Mother- Mum!” Draco said, losing his composure, and the vice like grip of the Auror's hand was suddenly around his bruised arm again, tugging him away. He watched, breathless and with the pain of a dagger stabbing his chest as his mother shrank before him, his neck twisting unnaturally over his shoulder to see her for as long as he could. He blinked, feeling tears rolling down his cheeks and off his chin. Before they hit the floor there was a loud crack, vanishing Draco and the Auror from sight, leaving behind 2 dark teardrop stains on the stone floor.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry sat at the large gnarled kitchen table nursing a steaming mug of coffee, feeling the festive mixture of hungover and over - fed. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but he knew it was time for him to return to Grimmauld Place. He should really check to see if the house was ok, and then get to tidying it. He groaned and tried not to think of the utter state he had left it in before coming to The Burrow.  
Harry lifted his cup and blew on the black liquid, steam clouding his glasses, before a deafening SCREECH made his whole body lurch, spilling scorching coffee into his crotch. As he stood up, searing pain flashing over him, something large and feathered collided with him, sending the coffee cup flying, smashing against the wall, and Harry stumbling, only just managing to grip the kitchen counter rather than fall flat on his arse.  
“Merlin- bloody- owl- ERROL!” Harry spluttered, straightening his glasses and seeing a grey lump on the table, carrying a white lump, presumably the morning paper.  
He grabbed a tea towel and pressed it over his crotch, and awkwardly grabbed his wand, casting 'reparo' and 'scourgify' on the mug and the wasted contents splattered around the kitchen. He returned to his seat and prodded Errol with the end of his wand, waking him up with a start.  
“Oh good. You’re still alive.” Harry said, and untied the paper from the bird’s leg. He pressed the towel into his crotch some more, dabbing at the dark stains that looked more than a tad incriminating.  
He flicked through the paper absently. The news had been very quiet over Christmas, so he wasn't expecting anything interesting. He turned the pages, until a photograph of a familiar blonde boy made his heart race and his temperature rise.  
“MALFOY HEIR WALKS FREE, MINISTRY CRITICISED FOR TRADE DEAL”  
Harry got to his feet instantly. Malfoy had been released? Dread filled his chest as he realised what that meant. He looked around desperately, trying to find a quill and ink, but there was nothing, so he hurriedly transfigured a nearby bread knife into a muggle pen and grabbed the Daily Prophet, rifling through it to find the emptiest space. He scrawled a note for the Weasley’s thanking them and apologising for not saying goodbye, and tore it from the paper, slapping it down in the centre of the table. He chucked the coffee-soaked towel into the sink, and hurried into the living room where his case and rucksack stood in front of the huge fireplace. Harry grabbed a handful of green powder from the flower pot, said “12 Grimmauld Place”, and threw the powder into the hearth. He grabbed his things, and without even a backwards glance, stepped into the roaring green flames.

***

This house had always been empty. The hallways and enormous rooms had always felt a few degrees too cold, and the quietness of the whole place had always been unnerving, echoed noises bouncing through the manor like ghosts.  
This however, was utterly unbearable.  
Not a single movement. Not a single sound. Not a flicker of a shadow or a distant echo to indicate there had ever been anything more than complete stillness here. Nothing to suggest this had once held a family, however unhappy it was.

Draco stood as still as a statue in the entrance. He was on his own. The Aurors had seen him inside, and then disappeared. He couldn’t feel his legs, so he couldn't walk, not that he wanted to. This place meant nothing to him without his mother here. There was no point in it.  
He stood in the silence waiting. The tear tracks from his eyes were tingling slightly and that was all Draco could feel of his body. Everything else was numb. A pointless body in a pointless house.  
Draco closed his eyes and let his misery wash over him, bringing momentary feeling back into his limbs. It was a horrible feeling, like poison running through him, making his whole body tense and sting. He took a few steps into the house, and his footsteps echoed horribly. He didn’t think, but found himself walking towards the library instinctively. A warm memory of himself on his mother's lap in front of a roaring fire. Whispered French words telling tales of brave wizards bubbled around his brain. He found himself in front of the empty dark hearth and put a hand on the freezing stone. The fire was unlit, but when he closed his eyes he could almost feel the memory of the flames warming the skin there. For a moment it was comforting, but the feeling was almost instantly extinguished by another wave of misery. Draco opened his eyes and dropped his hand to his side, wet eyes looking around the cold room. The daylight that shone through the windows was grey, washing the scene with a monochrome light, the dust particles reflecting the dull light unpleasantly, like a mausoleum that had been entered for the first time in years.  
He looked up momentarily as something moved in the corner of his vision. One of the many portraits in their fancy frames had shifted, it’s eyes trained on the boy below him. Draco looked up and met the gaze of one of his ancestors. It was a fierce looking man in Edwardian fashion, that sat in front of the very same fireplace Draco was standing beside, but this version glimmered with orange flames. They held each other's gaze for a moment, before the portrait pulled out his wand from beneath his robe and ceased the roaring fire behind him, the warm colours of the painting shifting to match the monochrome pallet of the real world. Draco nodded, appreciating the gesture. But his eyes lingered on the wand the man held in his hand and something inside of him lurched with sudden urgency. His wand. He could finally get his wand back. And once he was reunited with it he could finally finish what he'd been trying to do all year.  
The realisation hit him like a brick wall. The misery inside him hardened into fear. There really was no other way now. He could finally end all of this once and for all. And now with his mother in Azkaban, there was no other option, no one to turn to and ask for help.  
Draco sunk to his knees before the hearth. He closed his eyes, and his mind slowly resurfaced. And there, he saw Potter. Trapped beneath him with Draco’s dagger pressing a divot in the dark skin of his pulsing neck. Draco replayed the memory in his mind, only slightly aware of the burning sensation melting his icy demeanour. Harry's heavy breaths had lifted Draco’s body slightly as Harry had panted that the wand wasn't in Hogwarts. Then a painful memory of the head butt - Draco rubbed the site on his head, the lump that had grown there still slightly present under his fingertips. And then the weight of Harry above him made Malfoy breathless once more. It had unsettled him at the time. He’d had no physical contact with anyone like that. Draco felt his heart hammer against his chest at the memory. He’d looked up into Potter’s face, all red and full of life. It hurt to think about how very different they were. Harry was red, and he was green. Warm vs Cold. Happiness vs Misery. The weight of Harry had been real in that moment. Everything Draco had felt of him came to the surface, looking up at the boy who’d informed his entire life, pressing down on him, commanding him once again. Draco thought he’d never get free from that. A part of him didn't want to. It was easy there. Safe, almost. Draco felt himself go hot and forced himself to not linger on that moment. He had got away after all. He still wasn’t sure how; Potter had the upper hand. Draco remembered Harry’s face after he’d mocked him about binding him up and a knot tightened itself in his stomach. No, Harry’ d lost control because it was unexpected, nothing else. If anything he’d probably been disgusted. That must have been it. The weirdness of their position probably made him recoil. Draco had spat something at him, and rounded the corner, entering his own room and collapsing on his bed, with his heart pounding. He’d gripped his dagger painfully tight in his hand, the events of a few seconds prior burning itself into his memory.

Draco dragged himself up off the floor and knew where he needed to go. He needed his wand. Knowing Harry, he would be at the Burrow for Christmas, which already meant this would be a hell of a lot easier without having to confront Potter again. But this time he wouldn’t have Potter’s empathy to take advantage of.  
Draco opened his palm and looked down at the mark on it. The burn was still visible, H.P branded into his skin. It was time to get his wand back, and reclaim himself.

Harry coughed, eyes stinging as he stumbled out of his fireplace into Grimmauld Place. He’d used too much floo powder in his haste to get home and now his eyes were watering, blinding him from the excess smoke the floo had produced, along with the horrible sensation of taking the floo network, which he never had really got used to.  
He blinked rapidly and rubbed his eyes under his glasses as he straightened himself. The dark room slowly came into focus, he made out walls, the floor, the doorway...  
It looked as if a bomb had gone off in the room. Harry looked around, bewildered, trying to remember if this really was the way he'd left it. Any piece of furniture that had storage had been emptied, drawers hung from their compartments, shelves were bare, and the floor was strewn with their entrails. Harry knew he'd searched the place, but was this really how he'd left it?  
He stepped forward cautiously, avoiding the mess left on the floor.  
“Kreacher?” Harry said, carefully.  
The house elf appeared suddenly in front of him, wearing a tea towel over his shoulder and carrying a steaming pot of tea.  
“Master Harry! You’re home just in time, I was about to serve the tea.”  
Harry looked at Kreacher uncertainly. He hadn't told him when he'd be coming home.  
But before Harry could ask, Kreacher turned around and paced off intently, leaving the room. Harry followed.  
“Kreacher, has anything… happened since I left?” Harry stammered, trying to keep up with the little elf, who made haste through the house and disappeared through the door to the library. Harry stopped, and listened.  
A clink of china, and the sound of liquid transferring containers. Mumbling that  
sounded like Kreacher clamouring, and then the smallest of voices thanking him. A voice that Harry would recognise anywhere. Harry drew himself up and reached instinctively for his wand in his back pocket. He waited a few moments, his heart pounding, and then stepped forward, cautiously into the room.  
Draco was sat at the small table, one hand holding a steaming cup near his lips, the other one the armrest of the ornate chair he was sat in. He watched Harry walk in through his eyelashes. Harry held his gaze tensely as he stepped in, keeping his distance from the other boy. Last time they were in a room together, things hadn't ended well. He tightened his grip around his concealed wand.  
“Malfoy.” Harry heard himself say. Malfoy blew on the liquid in his cup and took a sip, without breaking his eye contact with Harry.  
“Potter.”  
How the hell had he got in here? Harry looked around quickly, to see Kreacher reappear in the archway leading out to the kitchen. He had a vacant smile on his face. Harry cursed inwardly at the elf. Of course Kreacher would have let Malfoy in. He was a member of the ancient House of Black. Harry couldn’t believe he hadn’t warned Kreacher not to let anybody in while he was away. He'd left in such a hurry, this was his fault. Harry couldn't tell if Malfoy had cast 'imperio' the elf or if he was just that old and thick that he didn’t realise Malfoy was an enemy.  
“Did you find it then?” Harry said. Malfoy just looked at Harry, pointedly.  
“You know, when I came in and saw the state of this house I decided not to bother searching. For you to have made this awful building even more unbearable by tearing it apart I thought the activity rather pointless. You’d have either found my wand or lost it completely, considering the state of the place.” Malfoy finished his sentence by gesturing his teacup around the library. Harry admitted, looking round at the mess, it would’ve been pretty obvious to Malfoy when he entered that Harry had done everything in his power to find the wand. Harry fixed his gaze back at Malfoy. His eyes were oddly puffy, with big bags under them and the whites of his eyes were stained with red blossoms. Malfoy had been crying. Not even his snide remarks could cover up the pain that was etched onto his face. It made Harry itch.  
Harry shook his head and sighed.  
“I've got your wand, Malfoy. If you would just tell me what’s going on then maybe-”  
“Maybe what, Potter?” Malfoy stood up suddenly, slamming his teacup on the table, making the whole thing rattle.  
“You think you can help everyone don’t you? You think you can just go around, saving people, winning wars and avenging the dead?” Malfoy looked furious. His hands were in fists at his side, his shoulders tensed.  
“Well can I just make something very clear. The only way you can help me, Potter, is by giving me back my fucking wand.”  
“Only if you tell me what’s going on. I promise I will give it back if you tell me.” Harry reasoned. Malfoy rolled his eyes.  
“You’re ability to squeeze yourself into everyone’s affairs is utterly unbearable Potter, it is none of your fucking business what may or may not be going on.”  
“It is if people's lives are in danger.” Harry said, biting his lip after saying the words. He had no evidence that whatever Malfoy was up to could be dangerous, but he had more than a small suspicion that, knowing Malfoy, it was definitely a possibility. Malfoy was still, his fists at his side, and he stared at Harry, eyes darting between his own. His lips were parted, the bottom quivering slightly, the look of anger melting into fear. Harry swallowed and felt himself go slightly colder.  
“Malfoy...” he said cautiously, and stepped towards him slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal. He reached a hand forward and Malfoy looked at it, before leaning back and touching the table behind him.  
“Please, Let me help you.”  
“So what, you can prove yourself as the saviour once again? I don’t need your help.”  
“Yes you do Malfoy.”  
“No I DON’T!” Malfoy shouted and lurched forward, shoving Harry backwards and making him stumble, hitting the door behind him. Harry reached for his wand but Malfoy was on him too fast, grabbing his wrists and pressing them between their chests.  
“You are fucking infuriating Potter.” He breathed through strands of white hair.  
Harry groaned. He could feel the ornate handle of the door digging into the small of his back. He shifted his hips under Malfoy’s weight to try and relieve the pressure. Malfoy looked down at Harry, watched him moving under him, and then suddenly pushed himself away. Harry watched as a flush crawled up his cheeks before he held his head in his hands, and sank into a nearby armchair. Harry felt his heart pounding and he watched the blonde. He was hunched over himself, breathing heavily, his shoulder blades poking through his white shirt, reminding Harry of the sight of him swimming in the lake, his shirt clinging to his body as he went. Harry blinked and felt a flush of his own tingling in his cheeks. He couldn’t believe Malfoy of all people could make him feel like this. The stupid, dangerous git.  
“Malfoy.”  
He saw Malfoy lift his head, his blonde hair falling messily in his eyes, which were glinting slightly. Harry took a deep breath and willed himself to ignore the heat rising in his chest.  
“It’s… something to do with the lake, isn’t it?”  
Malfoy’s flush drained from his face immediately, and his eyes widened. He sat up and looked at Harry. A few moments of silence passed and Harry decided to take that as confirmation of his suspicions. He felt like an explanation was probably necessary.  
“Hagrid told me there’s been mer-people going missing after the giant squid died, and he didn’t know what was causing it. I didn’t think much of it until… I saw you, down at the lake one night.” Harry said, watching Malfoy’s expression change to one of horror.  
“I didn’t know it was you at first, you had your cloak on. But after that, well, I knew something funny was happening in there so I thought the figure I’d seen could be behind it. So I watched the lake. My room has a view of the whole east shore. I can see… everything.” Harry dropped his gaze as another scarlet blush appeared on Draco’s cheeks. Harry felt uncomfortably hot, feeling a sweat forming down his back, making his shirt stick grossly to his skin, his body reacting to his own embarrassing confession.  
“You watched me go in?” Malfoy said in a small voice.  
“Well… yea. As soon as I saw you were just… swimming, I didn't suspect you were up to anything, but knowing that stuff about the lake I felt like someone should, I don’t know, just keep an eye on you, just in case? How were you supposed to know the lake was dangerous?” The expression that crossed Draco’s face was unreadable. It had softened from the horror struck expression, but his brows were still pulled close together. He looked conflicted. Harry fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweater, picking at a loose end. He felt foolish for telling this to Malfoy, but maybe, just maybe it would convince Malfoy to reveal his own secrets. After a while of silence, Malfoy huffed a derisive laugh, and sneered up at Harry.  
“You were watching me from your bedroom every night like some personal lifeguard?” Draco scoffed again and shook his head, disbelief painting his features.  
“I thought I was keeping you safe.” Harry said, defensively. Malfoy stared up at Harry angrily again.  
“How many bloody times- Merlin, Potter I don’t need your help! I know exactly what’s going on in that lake and there’s nothing you can do to help!” Malfoys mouth snapped shut, and he blinked, eyes darting down away from Harry’s. Harry felt his pulse quicken.  
“That’s what you’ve been trying to do, isn’t it. It’s the lake. Whatever is happening inside it, you’re making it happen.” Harrys brain was whirring.  
“The swimming, it must be part of some sort of ritual you need to do, some sort of magic bond-“  
“Magic bond? Potter you bloody idiot I’m not trying to make it fucking worse.” Malfoy was standing now, gesturing with his hands in frustration. One came up to rub his eyes, and Draco grimaced. Harry stared at him, feeling confused.  
“You know what’s causing it then?” Harry asked. Draco gave him a piercing look, and his lips pressed together in an irritated line. Harry stared at him, determined, but he received an equally determined gaze right back. The light in the room shifted slightly, and a few cold beams of light fell onto Draco’s side, illuminating the white hair and glinting off his pale eyes. Harry felt his expression melt slightly, momentarily forgetting the argument they were having to drink in the appearance of the other boy, completely unintentionally. He felt a heat sink through him, an odd, protective urge accompanying it as he looked into Draco’s reddened eyes.

“I saw the papers. Your mother...” Harry paused, and swallowed the dry lump in his throat he had procured as he watched a crease in Draco’s eyebrows form.  
“Your mother, she… took a life sentence so you could go free.” Harry said, eyes on Malfoy, who’s own eyes quickly darted to the floor.  
“She gave up her life to save mine.” He said, and looked back up, glimmering eyes locking with Harry’s. He felt a sudden cold run over him as he realised what Malfoy had just said. What he had alluded to, intentional or not. Harry couldn’t help the gush of understanding and empathy he had for Malfoy. Sure his mother wasn't dead, but being in Azkaban is as close to death as one living will ever get. A life sentence there is a fate worse than death. A fate she had chosen to protect her son.  
Harry stood across from Malfoy in the library as the shared this joint realisation. They looked at each other, mirroring the others sadness. Two boys, both whose mothers’ had put themselves in harm's way to save their only child. Whatever Malfoy was trying to do, he was doing it for her. He hadn’t thought about anything else all year, whatever he'd been trying to do. Harry saw that now. This desperation, this will to carry on, it was clearer than ever to Harry. It's why he'd kept his distance, been on his best behaviour, hadn't even looked at him. He didn’t want to get distracted. But Harry had been the last thing in the way, the last obstacle for him to overcome, and once again, Harry had put himself between Malfoy and his goal, whatever it was. And once again, he was desperate.  
“Stay here.”  
Harry turned around, and grabbed the door handle, yanking it open and walked out of the room towards the fireplace across the hall. He came to his belongings, coated in a thin layer of soot from the floo, and pulled open his rucksack, feeling around for the object. He closed his fist around the wand and pulled it out, looking at the black wood carefully, feeling the magic vibrate quietly under his fingertips. He liked this wand. It was a good match for him, slightly less chaotic than his own, the magic that flowed through him was more subdued, but with a lethal edge that harry had learned to wield during the war. His own wand was more full, bouncy and chaotic. This was Malfoy’s wand, after all. Harry wondered if that was how Malfoy felt his own magic within him. Sharp and deadly, rather than a ball of soft energy that Harry felt. He’d liked how his magic entwined with this wand, it was like it focused it in a different way.  
Harry turned and walked back into the library to find Draco running his hands over the ancient leather books on the shelves of the library. Harry halted, and watched his slender fingers gently caress the leathery spines. He didn't say anything, appreciating seeing Malfoy with his guard down again, unaware of Harry's presence behind him. This vulnerable side of Malfoy that Harry had grown to care for. Harry coughed, alerting Malfoy to his presence, and the other looked over his shoulder, his hand stopping on a book when he saw his wand clutched in Harry's palm. He turned around and crossed his arms, looking back up at Harry.  
“You promise me that you’re not putting anyone’s lives at risk, and that you aren’t being pressured or blackmailed by anyone like last time?” Harry asked. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but remained collected. He considered Harry for a moment, and then replied.  
“I promise.” And then he uncrossed his arms, and placed a hand on his chest.  
“On my mother’s life.”  
Harry nodded. Uncertainty lingered slightly in his mind but he knew this was the only way he was going to find out what Malfoy was doing, and to put a stop to it if he needed to.  
He turned Malfoy’s wand in his hand, before holding it out towards him. The other boy looked at Harry, but did not move.  
“Come get it then.” Harry said. There were a few more seconds of stillness, until eventually Malfoy slowly stepped forwards, closing the gap between him and Harry until he was in front of him, staring at his wand between them. Harry’s hand shook slightly as Malfoy slowly reached up, fingers brushing Harry’s slightly as he took the handle, magic tingling between their hands as the wand was passed from wizard to wizard. Malfoy took a breath in at the sensation, and his eyes widened as he lifted his wand up in front of him, looking at it, drinking it in. Harry knew that feeling, to finally be reunited with your wand- it had felt like a lost limb when his was broken. He watched Malfoy, watched a small smile creep across his face revealing white teeth, accentuating his already angular face, lighting up his eyes. Harry’s stomach twisted and turned and he begged for the sensation to stop. Malfoy had looked pale, withered, but now somehow he looked warmer, radiant. The power of magic. He looked at Harry, running his tongue over his lips and considering him for a moment, eyes running over his body, making Harry feel exposed and way too close to the other boy. For a moment Harry wondered what Draco was thinking. It looked as if he was half tempted to hug Harry, or hex him, Harry couldn't tell. They both looked intensely at one another, neither of them knowing exactly what to do next. Something inside Harry urged him to reach out to him, feel his magic against his skin again, something about it gnawed away at Harry's insides having felt it in that moment. Being this close to Malfoy wasn't good for him, it was dangerous, but god he wanted it. He looked at Malfoy’s neck, pale and soft, it was so close, all he'd have to do was to reach his hand up, push it forwards and up into the blonde hair…  
CRACK  
“Are Master Harry and Master Draco finished with their teas, Sirs?” Kreacher appeared, making the two boys jump and snap their heads round at him, startled at the sudden appearance of the elf. Harry breathed, his heart pounding in his ears, and he looked at Malfoy, who’d broken the eye contact and yet another blush exploded onto his face.  
“Uh..” Harry said stupidly, before he saw Malfoy push past the elf into the hallway. Harry chased after him.  
“Wait! Malfoy-“  
“Don't follow me, Potter. I’m warning you.” Malfoy yanked open the front door and Harry ran, arm outstretched, but in vain - Malfoy hurried down the steps, turned on his heel and disappeared. Harry reached the door frame and hung off it, watching as the last piece of Malfoy vanished into thin air. Panic rose in his chest, and from his lips escaped a frustrated shout. Shit, shit, this was bad. What had he been thinking? He hadn't even got Malfoy’s plan out of him before he vanished. Where had he gone? Harry slammed the door and went back to the living room, and paced the length of it. Malfoy was in danger, he was a certain. Would he have gone straight back to the lake? Was he that stupid as to go and face whatever was in there without anyone knowing about it? Harry knew of course. Malfoy’s words echoed in his head. His cries of “I don’t need your help” ringing in his memory. The image of his smile when he was reunited with his wand. But then his sudden determination. Oh god. What was he about to do?  
Harry knew he had to go, leave right this instant. Harry looked around the room, and haphazardly grabbed his bag. What else did he need? Thoughts whizzed around his brain but nothing seemed to land. The only thing he could hear pounding in his head was ‘Malfoy. Protect Malfoy’ over and over again.  
“Kreacher!”  
The elf appeared in front of Harry, and bowed.  
“I need you to go to Hogwarts. Find McGonagall…” but the words died as he spoke them. If Malfoy really had done something terrible and she found out, he would be expelled from Hogwarts. Possibly even incriminated for his involvement. Harry shook his head. Harry couldn’t allow that to happen.  
“Never mind. Kreacher, just… Find Hagrid. I think he's away for the holidays but you’re good at finding people- find him just like you found Mundungus. Tell him to go to Hogwarts, and tell him Harry says the lake is more dangerous than we thought. Go! Now!” Harry gestured Kreacher away with his hands. Kreacher blinked, the old house elf looked confused, but he eventually bowed, and vanished once more.  
Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and copied Draco’s hurried exit of Grimmauld Place, slamming the door shut and jumping down the steps onto the street. Picturing Hogsmeade, he turned, the image of Malfoy staining his destination in his mind.

Harry appeared at the top of the high street, head spinning. He blinked, and looked around him. The street was nearly deserted, A thin layer of frost coated the buildings and floor around him. He looked up towards the castle, and saw a tiny figure disappear behind the crest of the hill. He hitched his backpack higher over his shoulders and broke out into a run up towards the castle, hot breaths escaping his lips in clouds of pale white as he ran, the cobblestones echoing his loud footfalls. The wind lifted his long hair, and the cold air burned his throat as he made up the steep hill. As he neared the top he looked down into the grounds and saw the edge of the huge shimmering lake below. He stopped, doubled over panting, and squinted down to find the other boy. His eyes burned with the cold and watered slightly, blurring his vision. Harry rubbed his eyes, squinting, but he saw nothing. Harry remembered the boulder he could see from his window, and knew it was out of sight, a bit further across from what of the lake he could currently see. Deciding that this was likely his best shot at finding him, he jogged down the steep path towards the shore, slipping a few times on the loose gravel. Harry made it to the edge of the lake, and began to run along the shoreline, the huge castle above him casting a shadow over the shore. Harry could hear only the sound of his feet against the stony shoreline and his own desperate breaths as he ran. The lake was deathly still, unsettlingly so. Finally, after what seemed like a marathon, Harry looked up at the castle and saw the tower his room was situated in, and followed the line of sight from his window down, until he saw the boulder. Harry’s eyes widened when he saw the figure wading into the lake. Oh god, what was he doing? Harry swallowed and sprinted towards him, the burning sensation in his throat nearly unbearable. He skidded to a stop on the pebbles when he reached the boulder, which was strewn with expensive clothing. Harry looked out into the lake and saw the blonde head and naked, pale torso he’d seen so many times from his bedroom. Harry didn't know what to do. If he called out to Draco, it could end in a duel, but if he did nothing… Harry decided to squat down beside the boulder to recover his breath and watch Draco, see exactly what he would do now that he had a wand.  
A few moments passed, Harry’s breathing finally returning to normal. He shrugged off his backpack, which slumped open on the pebbles in front of him. Harry glanced down, and a glimmer of red caught his eye. Harry frowned and reached in, pulling out a small, snitch - like object. It was the dark detector. A rush of adrenaline pulsed through Harry, who fumbled with it for a second. Damn it, how did this thing work? He turned it over in his hands, until he spotted a small key like protrusion on its underside. Harry grasped it, turning it experimentally. It felt like a wind up mechanism as it slipped slightly when he loosened his grip, so harry wound the key until it would go no further. He paused, and remember the image of Ron whispering into his one a few months ago. Feeling a bit stupid, but knowing he had no other ideas, he brought the dark detector to his lips and whispered “find out whatever is in that lake.” Almost immediately the detector’s wings started flapping like a dragonfly’s, and forced its way out of Harry’s grip. He grimaced as he watched the object pelt towards the lake, preying Draco wouldn’t see it, but as soon as it reached the shore it dived, and disappeared into the water with the tiniest of splashes. Harry relaxed, Draco hadn’t noticed.  
Harry frowned as he watched the boy go deeper into the lake until it reached his armpits, with only his wand hand held above the rippling surface. He stopped, and looked around him, his head turned from side to side, up and down the shore. As he rotated himself around to look behind him, Harry shrunk further into the shadows of the boulder, heart pounding. He was sure Draco had seen him for a second there. He grimaced, and looked slowly back to the lake, but Draco once again had his back to him. He gripped his wand, and Harry watched as he lowered it until the tip just grazed the water. A few moments of stillness, and then-  
A huge pulse of energy rippled outwards from Malfoy, the water forming in waves emitting from his body. There was a deep, bass-y thud, and a wall of heat hit Harry, making his eyes water. Harry’s grip tightened on the boulder. A few moments later, all was still again. Harry stared, waiting. What had Malfoy done? He was still stood in the lake, still as always. Harry didn't move.  
Malfoy moved his wand free hand to rest on the surface of the water, as if feeling it for vibrations. Harry felt something. He looked around him as a low rumble started to become audible. The vibration slowly grew stronger, and Harry watched in bewilderment as the pebbles on the shore clacked against one another, the low rumble now accompanied with the pebble’s chorus of noise.  
The rumble became louder and louder, until harry felt the ground shaking under his feet. He looked up at Malfoy, who was still in the lake unmoving, and felt an overwhelming sense of fear. What was going on?  
Deciding he'd had enough, Harry pulled out his wand and leapt up, running with huge strides towards the shore.  
“MALFOY!” He called out, he face twisted in worry. The blonde whipped his head over his shoulder, locking eyes with Harry. Harry’s stomach dropped and he skidded to a halt at the water's edge. Malfoys eyes were not his own. There was nothing behind them, no piercing blue, no passion, no light. It made Harry feel sick.  
The rumbling ceased, so suddenly it startled Harry. He looked around, but the stillness lasted just a split second. The water around Malfoy exploded, launching him into the air. But he wasn't alone. Bodies, hundreds of writhing, flapping flailing limbs and tails were pushing Malfoy up, a cascade of water streaming down them. Harry was frozen in terror- they looked like… but how? Harry saw arms and heads, but no legs. Instead the bodies had tails. They were mer-people. But not the mer-people like Harry had seen in the lake before. These were skeletal, hollow eyed, rotting bodies. These were Inferi.  
“Impedimenta!” Harry screamed, his wand blasting a few of the bodies away from the pile. But immediately the hole was filled with more flailing bodies, and Malfoy’s form was disappearing into the mountain of Inferi. Harry aimed his wand for Malfoy, who had sunk completely into the mass, and screamed “INCENDIO” - a huge jet of fire exploding from the tip, knocking Harry back. It engulfed the bodies at the top of the pile, and screams like Harry had never heard before erupted from them. Several bodies plummeted back into the lake, engulfed in flame and Harry saw Malfoy’s blonde head reappear from among them. He was unconscious and bleeding from under his hair, red sticky blood flattening the white strands to his face. Harry wished he had his broom, he could fly up and pull him free, but his broom was in Grimmauld place, and he couldn’t apparate there to grab it within the Hogwarts wards. With no other ideas, he shot jet after jet of flames at the Inferi, but the bodies didn't stop coming. Harry felt helpless, looking around for something, anything to help him save Malfoy. He saw Hagrid’s hut in the distance and searched his memory of its contents to try to find something that could help. Ropes? A net? The fire would just burn right through them. He would have to rely on his magic, nothing could help him.  
The burning corpses of the defeated Inferi had started to wash ashore, and Harry looked at them. Harry noticed a long object floating among them. It was Malfoy's wand, he must have dropped it when he passed out. Harry picked it up, feeling the magic closed within him with the magic of his own wand. He had an idea.  
Harry pointed Draco’s wand at the boy, and sent a revival spell at him. Draco jolted and his eyes opened blearily. Harry noticed the piercing blue was back.  
“Malfoy! Catch!” Harry yelled, while picking off the Inferi surrounding him. Malfoy, looking terrified, stared at Harry, and as Harry launched the wand at him, he caught it, looking extremely confused and scared.  
“FIRE MALFOY! THATS THE ONLY THING THAT WORKS!” Harry yelled, and Malfoy nodded, and blasted fire beneath him, kicking away the attacking Inferi. Finally, the tower started collapsing, and the number of Inferi was lessening. Bodies were piling up on the shore, Harry had to climb over them to reach Malfoy, who was just finishing off the last few bodies. Finally free of the Inferi, Malfoy stumbled towards Harry, his torso torn and bloody, and collapsed before him, Harry only just catching him under his arms. Wet, from the blood and lake water, Harry pulled Malfoy up, lifting his legs around his waist and stepped back towards the shore. Malfoys skin was almost painfully hot to touch, it was like he himself was on fire. Harry cleared the bodies of the Inferi and carried Malfoy up the shore, before gently letting him down on the grass, and examining his injuries. Malfoy’s legs looked flayed. The skin looked near destroyed. It was gruesome and Harry shuddered. He knew he needed to stop the bleeding immediately, so recited a healing spell. He waved his wand gently over all of Malfoy’s gashes, which slowly started to knit themselves closed. Harry hoped his magic was powerful enough not to leave too bad scarring. He worked his way up Malfoy’s body, paying extra attention to the deeper, more traumatic cuts. He looked at Draco’s face every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing. With every cut healed, Malfoy’s face relaxed, the crease in his brow loosening. Harry’s own body relaxed simultaneously, knowing Malfoy was going to be ok. Finishing up healing, Harry examined Malfoy once more, then stood up, intending to go and get the bag still left at the boulder.  
“Potter.” Harry stopped, and looked back at Malfoy, his heart jumping slightly at hearing his name.  
“Why am I alive?” Harry blinked, and turned around. Malfoy stiffly pulled himself onto one elbow and looked seriously at Harry. Harry didn't know what to say.  
“Those creatures were supposed to kill me, Potter. You’ve got no idea..” Malfoy hissed and clutched at his side. Harry quickly knelt down beside him and cast a spell over the injury. A broken rib Harry suspected. Malfoy watched as Harry focused on fixing the bone. Harry felt his gaze and tried not to pay attention to it. Harry felt the soft breaths against his hair from above him. Malfoy spoke again in a small voice that made Harry’s neck hair stand on end.  
“I told you not to follow me, Potter.” Harry finished the healing charm and looked up at Malfoy, their faces only a few inches apart. Malfoy was still covered in his own blood. He was shivering slightly, and Harry realised how cold he must be, practically naked on the side of the freezing lake.  
“Accio clothes.” Harry muttered, and the folded clothes on the boulder flew over to him. He unfolded the cloak and held it out. Malfoy eyed it, as if to deny it, but took it reluctantly and pulled it over his naked shoulders. Harry sat back, and looked at Malfoy.  
“Scorgify.” Harry muttered, and some of the blood over Malfoy’s face was wiped away. Harry never really had perfected that spell. Immediately Malfoy lurched forward.  
“Will you stop.” Malfoy grabbed Harry’s shirt, and looked angrily at him.  
“You have no idea what you’ve just done.”  
Harry exhaled sharply in annoyance.  
“Well please, don’t keep me in the dark. Bloody well explain what I just saw.”  
Malfoy scanned Harry’s face up and down, and let go of his shirt.  
“We don’t have much time. This was only what they sent to collect me. I’m not sure how many there are now.”  
“Will you just bloody explain what’s going on?”  
“Alright Potter, Merlin, this is such a mess.” Malfoy shook his head and squeezed his eyes closed. Harry waited.  
“At the Battle of Hogwarts, one of His plans to defeat the Order was using the Inferi. The task to enchant the mer-people in the lake into Inferi was left to my mother, but I took the task on myself, as I didn’t think she’d survive the process. I don’t know how much you know about how that works, Potter but it’s not exactly an easy process. It’s a curse. I had to come down here and perform this sort of ritual, and I created a bond with myself and the Inferi in the lake. As long as I am alive, the Inferi stay alive. And they keep growing. At the battle, I was too much of a coward to use them. But the bond still exists. The whole time I was home I feared the Inferi would take over the lake, hurt people, and I would be exposed as the one who had cursed it. That’s why I started coming down to the lake at night. I was hoping the Inferi would recognise me as their Master and want to kill me to be released from the curse. But it didn't work. Every time I went in the lake I was hoping one would pull me under. I didn't know what I was doing, I just knew the Inferi had to kill me themselves, but without my wand I had no way of summoning them.” Malfoy paused and looked out towards the lake. Harry followed his gaze, settling on the bodies on the shore. Malfoy inhaled, and carried on with his story.  
“That’s why I tried to sneak a wand in. I needed it to perform the summoning spell. That’s what you saw me doing now. The Inferi have been awakened. They were supposed to kill me, Potter. Merlin knows what is about to happen now that I’m still alive.” Malfoy became quiet, and Harry took a moment to process what he'd heard. His skin crawled slightly as he realised the implication of Malfoy saying the Inferi had been awakened. He was reminded of the mission he took with Dumbledore, at how those bodies did not relent, how they only just made it out alive. This lake was about 50 times larger than that one, and filled with a lot more life. But then Harry looked at Malfoy, and remembered that he’d caught his wand when Harry threw it to him, he had fought them off.  
“If you were supposed to die then why did you fight when I revived you?” Harry said. Malfoy’s jaw tightened and he looked away from Harry.  
“I don’t know. You just- were standing there, I saw your face and it just… I didn't think, I just did what you said.” Malfoy looked annoyed. Harry felt uncomfortable, but almost immediately he felt a low rumble beneath him.  
Harry suddenly got to his feet.  
“We have to get help.” He said, looking seriously at Malfoy. “It’s the only hope we have. We need to lure them all out, and just completely obliterate the whole lot. We can round them up, I'll call the ministry, we can do this...”  
Harry faltered when he saw the look on Malfoy’s face. He looked defeated.  
“No. You have to just let me die Harry. Even if we killed every last Inferi, the curse would still be active, and more will be made. As long as I am alive, so is the curse.”  
“There must be another way. You were forced into this Malfoy, you can’t die because of this.” Harrys voice was raised. This wasn't fair. Malfoy wasn't trying to hurt anyone, he was trying to fix this. The low rumble was getting louder, and Harry started to panic. Draco didn't move. Harry fell onto the ground before Malfoy and grabbed his shoulders.  
“There MUST be another way!” He shouted into the other boys face. Malfoy looked at him, confusion and fear etched onto his face at Harry’s outburst. Harry picked up Malfoy’s wand and thrust it into the others hand, and held it there as he felt each other's magic pulsing between each other. Malfoy sat up, moving in closer into Harry.  
“There’s always another way.” Harry whispered, their faces nearly touching.  
“Ow!” Harry reached a hand to the back of his head, as something had just crashed into it, and was tangling itself madly into his mess of hair. Harry leaned back and tugged the hysterical object free, and looked at it. It was the dark detector, its lights were flashing and it was making a high pitched squeaking noise, and its whole body was shaking as if it was scared.  
“What is that?” Malfoy said sharply. Burt before Harry could answer, he heard a familiar voice shouting his name from across the grounds. Hagrid was lumbering towards him.  
“‘Arry! Arry are you alrigh’? Arry!” Hagrid ran towards him with impressive speed, taking only a few seconds to reach them.  
“Hagrid, The lake - it's Inferi.” Hagrid stopped in front of the two boys, and his eyes widened, looking first at Harry, and then down to where Malfoy was laid on the grass. Hagrid gripped his fists, but after a moment Harry saw that he too could feel the vibrations under his feet.  
“This is bad. Really bad. You know how Inferi works, don’ ya Harry?” Hagrid looked in disgust down at Malfoy. “There’s gotta be a host.” He said in a loud whisper.  
“I know, but Malfoy didn't have-” he was cut off once again when he heard a high pitched scream, and they all looked towards the lake. One by one, slimy, scaly heads were appearing above the surface of the water. All of which started screaming when their mouths breached the air. The sound was unbearable, and got louder and louder with every head joining the chorus.  
“Merlin's beard!” Hagrid cried, and clapped his hands over his ears.  
“They're coming!” Harry shouted, and grabbed Draco by the elbow, pulling him onto his feet.  
“Hagrid, we need to warn the mer-people, tell them what’s really going on.”  
“Alright, ill try me best.”  
“We will hold them off until then, Malfoy lets go!” Harry grabbed Draco’s hand and strode towards the lake.  
“You're going to have to use me as bait if you want to stand a chance.” Draco said. He looked confused but let Harry lead the way. Harry didn't like this idea at all but it made sense to draw them out, get them out in the open.  
“Swear to me you won't let them take you.” Harry stopped and looked at Draco seriously. He wasn't going to be tricked into Draco sacrificing himself. Malfoy said nothing, but before Harry could push the point further, something cold and slimy had wrapped around his leg. He let go of Draco’s hand, and felt a warm feeling he hadn't noticed was there leaving his body. He looked down. The Inferi had crawled out of the water, dragged themselves along the shore by their bony arms and one was crawling up Harry’s leg.  
“Incendio!” Malfoy shouted, and the 3 or 4 Inferi now closing in were sent flying back, screaming louder at the flames. Harry was about to thank Malfoy but he didn't have time, they were already half surrounded again. Shooting jet after jet of flame, Harry and Malfoy stood back to back, trying to hold their ground. After only seconds however, bigger and bigger waves threatened to crush them almost instantly. The lake seemed to swell and expand, Draco and Harry were having to constantly move up the shore to avoid getting engulfed by the sea of bodies and water. The Inferi seemed to have control over the liquid; a great wall of water had risen slowly, now taller than both of them, looming over the pair threatening to crash down on them at any moment.  
“We need to split up!” shouted Harry, seeing the Inferi closing in. Malfoy needed to draw them away.  
“Right!” Malfoy immediately blasted a hole through the Inferi in front of him and ran along the shore. The effect was immediate; the Inferi moved like one in his direction, only the ones directly surrounding Harry stayed to kill him. Harry blasted them away and chased after the herd, and tried to think of a plan. He cast his mind back to the cave with Dumbledore. They couldn't even be defeated by Dumbledore; he'd only managed to hold them off in order for them to escape. What could he possibly do to break the curse entirely? Harry sent fire jets at the Inferi as he desperately reached all corners of his memory for anything to do with dark curses. The Inferi were alive because Draco was alive, but to break the curse, something in Malfoy had to be sacrificed. This felt familiar, and the beginnings of an idea were forming in Harry’s mind.  
A blast of fire heading towards him made him duck, and a scorching hot wave engulfed him.  
“POTTER!” Malfoy yelled, and Harry saw him, sweating and terrified, looking back towards him. Harry turned and saw a huge wave - bodies and water all tumbling together towards him. Harry didn't move. This was mad, and there was no way of knowing if this was going to work. Harry closed his eyes, and was engulfed in it, and just before his head went under, he saw Malfoy sprinting towards him. He took a last breath and then everything went dark.  
The screaming had stopped. It was instead replaced with something horrible. The Inferi were mumbling, moaning, the screams sounding different underwater, like they were in pain. Horrible, agonised, tortured moans. The water gave their voices new meaning. Harry felt his limbs being held, but did not fight it. He would either die like this, or his idea, as mad as it was, would work. Harry waited for the pain, the monsters to start attacking and tearing at his flesh as they did to Malfoy, but something bright made his eyes open in the water. He saw the blurred outlines of the rotting Inferi surrounding him, but also a shimmering ball of fire just out of his reach. Something started to come into focus, and he saw Malfoy swimming towards him, a halo of flames protecting him from the scaled hands reaching towards him. A hand grabbed his, and he was pulled into the flaming sphere, two arms wrapping around Harry and holding him tight. Harry breathed in Malfoy, held his head in one hand and wrapped his other arm around the boys’ shoulder. He could hear the moans of the Inferi becoming louder, confusion and pain deafening his ears, but he closed his eyes and felt the magic between the two boys working. He focused only on Malfoy, the image of him pounding in his head, letting the intensity of the feeling he'd been trying to suppress all this time free to be acknowledged by the other. He felt Malfoy’s magic reciprocating, and he'd never felt anything quite like it. It was if his whole body was on fire against the other. It was almost painful, but wonderful at the same time. It felt like a promise, a bond. A magic so magnetic, nothing could touch them. They held each other like this for a while, the sounds of the Inferi slowly ebbing away, until all Harry could hear was the roar of the flames he and Malfoy were suspended within. Harry opened his eyes carefully, squinting at the bright flames. He lifted his head from Malfoy’s shoulder and slowly turned to see the other boy looking back at him. Nose to nose they stared into each other, something invisible chaining their eyes together. Harry pushed forwards, his whole body urged him to do so, until his lips collided with Draco’s, who immediately responded. The heat intensified but Harry only felt Malfoy’s lips and how they moved perfectly, all of his senses reacting at once. He felt a hand enter his hair and felt every follicle on his body stand on end. It was like a surge of static, his muscles tightening at the sensation and he pushed further into Draco.  
A whisper escaped Draco's mouth, pushing past Harry's lips, and the light around them disappeared. The heat, the static and the sensation vanished, and Harry felt himself fall, losing contact with Draco, before hitting something cold, and he sank, he couldn't breathe again.  
Harry kicked around in the water, and resurfaced, opening his eyes and taking in the grey cold scene before him.  
“DRACO!” he half spluttered into the air, looking around madly for the blonde. His eyes fell on the shore, and found a blurred body sprawled on the pebbles. Harry swam madly towards it, eventually feeling the shore and ran out of the water, his clothes clinging like ice frozen to his skin. He collapsed in front of the body and took Draco’s face between his hands. He was as cold as ice. He couldn't feel the pulse of magic he had felt before. Please, no. Harry begged. He was sure, for a second in the fire, they had done it. But he looked into the blank eyes of Draco, and his hope was extinguished as fast as the flames had disappeared around them.  
“Wake up. Draco wake up.” Harry spoke, gentle but desperate. Everything around him was silent. Not even a breeze. Harry leaned over Draco and felt hopeless. He pressed his forehead against his chest and felt a sob escape his lips. The sobs came as freely and as painful as he'd ever felt. He was sure this would work. Harry lifted his head and a thought crossed his mind, and a small flame of hope relit itself in his chest. Malfoy had sacrificed himself, yes, but Harry was still alive.  
Harry grabbed his wand from his pocket.  
“Accio Malfoys wand.” He heard a small splash and something hard smacked into his shoulder. Harry reached behind him and picked up the black wooden wand. He waited. Suddenly a surge of the magic he was so used to now sparked through his hand up his arm, and pierced his heat with a warm, sharp jolt. Malfoy sat up, coughing and spluttering, and Harry’s face broke into a huge grin.  
“YOU DID IT!” Harry bellowed, and grabbed Malfoy’s wand arm, thrusting the wand into his hand once more. The magic exploded between them like an electric shock, and Malfoy’s eyes opened, looking at the wand, then up at Harry. He searched his face for a moment, before throwing himself into Harry and kissing him, knocking Harry backwards onto the shore. Harry pulled Malfoy closer and felt the heat between them warm his whole body, deepening the kiss as if it was all that mattered in the world. Everything he wanted to say, he said in this kiss. He felt Malfoy’s breath tracing his features, their bodies fitting perfectly together despite the cold damp clothes separating their skin which Harry longed to be removed. Malfoy pulled back, his pupils blown, a look of pure relief on his pointed features.  
“When I saw you go under I just… something broke in me. Somehow I knew I needed to do it.” Malfoy breathed.  
“Do what?”  
“Cast the bonding spell, the spell I cast when I cursed the lake.” Harry thought about the ball of fire he had been pulled into.  
“So that was what it was?” Harry asked.  
“I’m not sure what made me do it, but the thought of you being killed by something I created was just...” Malfoy trailed off and frowned, then looked up at Harry.  
“I think I’ve transferred it to you.”  
Harry sat there for a moment, and took in what Malfoy had just said. It had worked.  
“Dark magic always needs a sacrifice. I knew you dying wasn't an option, so I knew the only other way was me.” Harry admitted. Draco nodded. Harry was surprised Draco wasn't more angry at Harry for putting his own neck on the line. They looked at each other, and Harry reached up to touch Draco’s lips, soft and warm under his fingertips.  
“HARRY!” He looked around, and saw a group of people sprinting towards them, lead by Ron. He was red in the face, and sweat plastered his red hair to his forehead. He was followed closely behind by a group of men and women dressed in Auror attire. Kingsley Shacklebolt could also be seen a little further back, his embroidered cloak flashing as he ran. Harry stood up, grabbing Malfoy’s hand and pulling him up with him. He didn’t let go of Malfoy.  
“Inferi!” Ron wheezed as he came to a stop in front of them, doubling over, struggling to get his breath back. Harry watched as the aurors skidded to a halt, the majority of them armed with their wands, looking around for the danger. One of them, a tall, bald wizard Harry vaguely recognised, locked eyes on Malfoy, and pointed his wand at his chest.  
“You’re too late. We defeated them, there’s no danger. And will you please not point your wand at Draco, he’s the one who broke the curse.” Harry aimed his last statement at the bald wizard. The Auror did not move. Ron, having recovered his breath, stood back up, and looked incredulously at the blonde.  
“Draco?” He said. Harry squeezed his hand encouragingly, and Ron looked between them, a look of confusion and fear etched into his features.  
“Harry…”  
“We can explain everything.” Harry said, before looking at Kingsley, who had just arrived at the edge of the group. He looked furious.  
“An explanation indeed, Potter. We received the signal from your dark detector and it was off the charts. We came as soon as we could. What on earth has happened here?”  
“Well..” Harry began, but Malfoy squeezed his hand, and Harry stopped, looking at him. He looked scared, but Harry understood, and let Malfoy do the talking. He explained everything; from Voldemort giving his mother the order, to the stolen wand, to Harry confronting him, to the events of the lake. Harry stood and listened, appreciating for once, he was not the one who had to explain everything himself. Malfoy got to the part where they defeated the Inferi, and faltered. Harry saw his face contort while trying to explain exactly what happened. Harry understood. He wasn't exactly sure either.  
“Minister, I don’t think either of us really know what happened. I think I have an idea…” the minister held up his hand, and Harry fell quiet. No one spoke for a minute, but Ron and the Aurors gave each other meaningful looks, which made Harry feel slightly uneasy. A squeeze from Malfoy’s had reassured him though, and he looked back at Ron, who gave him a mournful look.  
“It sounds like the bond between Malfoy and the Inferi has been transferred to you, Harry.” Ron said, sounding like someone giving bad news to a family about a loved one. Harry and Malfoy looked at each other, victorious smiles reflecting between them. This was the confirmation they’d been waiting for. The warmth of magic between them swelled. Ron stared at Harry, as if he had gone mad.  
“Don't you… you do realise what this means Harry?” Ron asked, brow creased in concern.  
“I'm guessing it means if one of us dies, the other dies too.” Harry said, simply, looking back at Ron. “I think we will manage.” Harry smiled at Ron, who was now shaking his head, like he couldn't comprehend what Harry was saying. Kingsley stepped forward, and placed a large hand on Ron’s shoulder. Ron looked up at him mournfully. Kingsley gave him a small smile, and Ron sighed, looking down at his feet. Harry felt he could explain everything later over a tall glass of fire whiskey. Harry looked at the bald wizard, who still had his wand pointed at Malfoy.  
“Minister. I do believe we have had a confession of highly illegal dark magic from the Malfoy boy. It is only right if we immediately escort him to Azkaban to await trial for his crimes.” the bald wizard growled. Harry felt Draco’s hand go limp, and saw his eyes widening in fear.  
“Calm down, calm down. I think from Malfoy's explanation he was indeed forced to perform this curse. I would say, after all he has been through, he needs no more punishment.” Replied Kingsley, and Harry stared at him. His dark eyes glistened, and he nodded once at Harry.  
“What will need to be dealt with, however, is all that remains.” Kingsley looked to the shore, and the hundreds of now-still corpses lining it, the subtle waves of the lake lapping at their gaunt figures. Harry turned to see Hagrid lumbering up the other side of the lake, and was surprised to see, a few meters from the shoreline, a pale head with long auburn hair swimming along side him. It looked as if they were deep in conversation as they made their way up the shore.  
“...can see the damage its ‘ad on the shore an’ all.. Ah, Harry, Ron, Minister! Glad your'e all ‘ere, I just managed to get ‘old of the mer-people, this is one of them seniors, Dale, and he's representing the mer-people.” Harry watched as Dale rose slightly from the water, glistening skin and muscle revealing itself from the darkness.  
“Thank you, Harry Potter, the mer-people have no words to describe how grateful we are for your help. We had no idea just how dark and twisted our home had become, nor the true scale of the number of our kind who were taken by this curse. You have done our people a great service, Mr Potter.” the mer-man bowed his head, and Harry could only mirror the gesture. It wasn’t worth trying to explain it was actually Malfoy who had saved the lake. Kingsley cleared his throat.  
“Dale, In regards to the bodies…”  
“We can dispose of them ourselves. I have arranged some of our men to transport the dead to our burial grounds to be identified and put to rest. Please do not feel this duty is yours to burden.” Kingsley nodded and looked back to his team of Aurors.  
“Well, If anyone can think of no other reason for us to stay, I think our work here is, well, done.” the Aurors looked at one another, and made small noises of agreement. Harry couldn't help but to find it slightly amusing at the disappointment in some of their faces, they had expected a huge fight from the dark detectors signals.  
“Ron, you never told me the dark detector sent signals to the ministry.” Harry said. Ron looked slightly sheepish.  
“Well… yea. I didn't tell you that on purpose. Didn't want you to be put off using it. You've always been bloody useless at asking for help, mate.” Harry laughed, and Ron grinned guiltily. Harry’s laughter died down, and he stepped towards Ron, putting a hand on his arm.  
“I promise you I’ll explain everything later. Properly.” Harry said. Ron looked up at him, then behind him to Malfoy, and nodded.  
“Alright Aurors, let's get a move on. We might even still get in another raid if we hurry up!” Kingsley bellowed.  
Ron gave a last wave to Harry, before hurrying after the Aurors back up the hill towards the exit of the Hogwarts grounds. Hagrid was deep in conversation with a couple of mer-people, and Harry knew he wouldn't mind if he and Draco slipped away too.  
“Come on, lets get some warm clothes on. I’m freezing.” Harry said, linking his arm with Draco’s, and heading towards the castle. 

***

Harry and Draco walked through the grand entrance doors and into the cold, quiet castle. Harry would usually feel slightly uneasy walking through this place when it was so empty like this, but today it just felt peaceful. The warm feeling of having been bonded to Draco lingered over him, for the first time in a long time, he felt truly safe.  
They got to the statue of the embracing couple, and Draco stood before it, looking up at the faces of the individuals.  
“I always hated this statue. When I was forced to come back here it felt like it was mocking me, making them separate for you to walk through. It was like it was trying to show me just how much my actions and my involvement with the Death Eaters had torn people's lives apart, for me to walk forward. And then, once you're out of the picture, they come back together, happy again at last, now that the bad guy is out of the way.” Harry looked at Malfoy, and then, not being able to help himself, threw his arms around him, sending the blonde stumbling backwards.  
“Merlin- Harry what in the world…” But Harry cut him off with a crushing kiss. Only for a moment did Malfoy resist, but Harry felt his shoulders soften under his arms, and he reciprocated the kiss, bringing his own arms around Harry. Harry pulled away and gave Malfoy a small smile. He looked up at the embracing couple.  
“You think too much. I’ve always just thought they were annoying.” The eyes of the stone statue seemed to look down at Harry, irritated.  
“Infractus” Malfoy said, and with even more reluctance than usual, the couple broke apart, revealing the corridor to the common room. Harry and Draco stepped through holding hands. They reached the common room, where a fire lit itself in the hearth. A couple of fluffy towels were stacked conveniently on the dining table, along with two bath robes. Harry suddenly had an idea.  
“Malfoy, have you ever been to the prefect's bathroom on the 5th floor?”

***

Malfoy followed Harry through the doors of the bathroom and his eyes widened. He took a breath and looked around the room, taking in the hundreds of taps, and the stained glass windows surrounding the ginormous pool-sized bath.  
“Merlin, Harry, how did I not know about this place?” Malfoy said, gazing around the room. Harry walked over to the taps and leaned over, turning the faucets so that water spilled out of each of them, all the different colours and smells swirling together in the bottom of the pool.  
“Cedric told me about it during the Triwizard Tournament. This is where I discovered the clue about the lake. The golden eggs, remember?” Malfoy nodded, entranced. He approached the edge of the bath, and he squatted down and touched one of the taps, a green jewel adorning the top. Malfoy turned the handle, and a bubbling green stream of water came pouring out of it, and a minty smell filled the air. Draco smiled up at Harry, eyes glimmering with wonder, reminding Harry of a small child. It made his heart ache. Steam started to fog the room, dulling the bright colours of the stained glass. Harry felt a strange twist of sadness looking at the mermaids in the glass. He didn't know where this guilt was coming from and a crease formed in his brow. He looked at Malfoy, who too was looking at the mermaids. He looked pale, and Harry approached him and took his hand. The feeling of guilt washed away when Malfoy looked into his eyes. Harry couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him.  
“Did you feel that?”  
“Feel what?”  
“I don’t know, I just… I think I felt what you were feeling for a moment. When you were looking at the glass.” Malfoy blinked, and unconsciously reached up to his chest.  
“It must be a side effect of the curse. We have to endure each others pain while we are alive.” Harry thought about this, but couldn't quite determine how he felt about it. On one hand, he felt bad for having to share his own pain with Malfoy, but at the same time he was glad that he could help Malfoy bear the burden of his own. He let go of Draco’s hand and reached up to his face, running it along the soft cheek down to the crook of his neck. He smiled.  
“We’ve always been in each other's pain, don’t you think?” Malfoy rolled his eyes and slapped Harry’s hand away, a small smile escaping his lips. Harry grinned.  
“Baths ready!” He announced, and saw the huge bubbles rising from the floor, threatening to topple over both of them. Harry yelped when he felt his socks getting damp.  
“Quick, turn off the taps!” They both scrambled around the bath, hurriedly turning taps and laughing as the water flooded the room. Once they were all off, Harry stood still and looked at Draco from over the bubbles. He grinned. Malfoy’s cheeks went a little pink. Without a word Harry grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled the damp thing over his head, and chucked it aside. He watched Malfoy watching him. Malfoy folded his arms and raised his brow. Harry’s grin widened and he undid his jeans, pulling the wet denim down and kicking them off. Malfoy didn't move.  
“I don’t know about you Malfoy but I normally take off my clothes when I have a bath.” Harry looked seriously at Malfoy, before pulling down his boxers, kicking them aside and in one swift move, jumped with an echoing “whoop” into the bubbles. A huge splash later, Harry resurfaced, the warm water burning his skin in the best way. He squinted and rubbed his eyes under his glasses, and saw Malfoy, completely soaked from Harry's entry into the bath. He laughed at the sight of a furious, soaked Malfoy. It was uncontrollable. He could feel Malfoy’s annoyance pounding in his chest but that only made it funnier. Harry swam to the side of the pool and rested his head on his chin, looking up at the other boy. He smiled innocently as his laughter died down.  
“You gonna join me?” Malfoy narrowed his eyes and huffed.  
“You’re going to pay for that one, Potter.” Malfoy said in a familiar drawl, which made Harry’s heart skip a beat, and adrenaline run through his body. Malfoy started to undress quickly, and Harry deciding this was a good time for a head start, swam in the opposite direction. He heard a huge splash, and the wave engulfed him from behind. A second later, he felt two arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him under the water. Water filled his ears, and air escaped his lips, the sound of the underwater wrestling match making a strange distorted bubble of noise. His feet touched the base of the pool, and he pushed up, forcing them both through the water and above the surface, he took a deep breath and pulled Malfoy in front of him, and they both burst into fits of laughter, their hair wet and tangled and covered in bubbles.  
The mermaids swam in their frames, watching the two of them splashing around in the water. It was rare for them to ever see anybody in here, let alone two people. They watched and smiled, occasionally looking out of the window to the outside, where they saw the lake, stretching for what seemed like miles, as black as night, which was finally moving again at last.


End file.
